She smokes a lot,
Maybe too much,
She knows this,
-you don’t need to tell her,
Wouldn’t do either of you any good.
Not in a talkative mood,
Barely says two words to you,
Could dig yourself into trouble,
If you push this.
Lines on her face that aren’t enough sleep,
Showing hours in the day she slept through alone,
Not necessarily by herself,
Sunburn that turned straight into freckles,
Whiles her skin remains pale,
Like tarnished jewellery,
Nice if she looked after it better,
Which she doesn’t of course,
There isn’t ever enough time.
Blowing cigarette smoke out her mouth,
Like it’s pushing away every lame excuse you could make,
Expels it with a slight whistle,
Not sure if that’s sounded to bother you,
…But it does.
The shirt she’s wearing doesn’t fit well,
Eyes out the window,
Turned away from you,
Locked on something in the blue sky.
Can’t remember what colour her eyes actually are,
And that’s sad.
Because you know somehow,
That it might help,
If you could remember.