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I smoke
I smoke despite the fact I don’t look mysterious
Or pensive
Or cute
or sexy
I don’t look like a femme fatal straight out of a old movie
I don’t look like Audrey Hepburn
I also don’t look like Alaska Young
but
I still stand outside on those cool crisp winter nights, with just my music and stars for company, and bring my untimely death to my lips, inhaling my sweet demise
I may not look like poetry, but I can sound like it (via late-nights-and-daydreams)
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