Escape

I had never smoked a cigarette
but I could always remember the smell of nicotine,
because you would always have a pack
stashed
in the back pocket of your ripped jeans
and that was the smell I fell in love with,
the smell of addiction dripping off your lips
as I kissed the problem child
and promised him my love.
He was my bad boy
or as bad as bad got
in a town as small as this,
he was roses wrapped around my heart
with thorns piercing into me
never letting go.
Love was 3 a.m. conversations
and half a glass of whiskey
memorizing the contours of your face
and the lines that formed at the crease
of your brown eyes when you smiled,
smiling at me
making my heart race
more than one beat a second.
I spent most nights
falling in love with the idea of a future
with me in it
while you promised me
hands that knew exactly what they were doing
and thirsty kisses that left me drowning in desire.
We were an escape to each other
an escape from a harsh reality that held us down
but you helped me forget
and I hope to this day I helped you to.
Because a love mixed so evenly
between pure and dirty
could never last in a world
that was intoxicated from the start.