She Walks In Black Smoke

She walks in smoke
a slow burning incense
edging in reverse.

I breathe her in deep,
And feel her
curling into my lungs,
a warning
that smells like
sieged perfume
burnt but sweet.

A slow burn
devouring the stem
of my lips.

She kisses,
and I see stars
I didn’t see before.

She floats up
and funnels out
a woman carved from ash,
wrapped in skin
the color of want.

You don’t just inhale her
she appears.
Frankincense,
desire,
and heartbreak.
Slink shoulders
to match.

Her hips curve
in a million
different question marks,
and you want to know
the answer
to a million and one of them.

The stem breaks
and falls into ash
the very reason
arson is illegal.

I lit her
with my intention
and watched her rise.
The air grew thick,
her thighs
followed by her calves.

She burns like incense
every reason
to readjust
the way you breathe.
Slow,
deliberate,
Heavy.

A woman
carved from ash.

She kisses,
and I see stars
the stars
whose legs gave out
and disappeared
from the sky.

She walks in smoke
and traverses through
my lungs.

Her perfume lingers.
I follow her smoke
The kind of woman,
I was warned about.
nothing
will smell
the same
again.