"Breathe in as I light it, I know it seems counter-intuitive."
And I breathe in, like I always do. 
She looks up at me through dark brown eyes.
I look at down at her through my crystal blues.

She tells me how beautiful and creative I am.
"My God, Natalie, I wish I was like you."
I tell her that being me is just another curse.
"I know that feel, I feel just as you do."

We walk together, hand in hand in the dark.
Wishing that all of their lovely lies were true.
Committing sins under damp, cloudy skies.
Feeling as if we know it all, but still don't have a clue.

I promise her I won't get addicted to them.
But the smell of burnt leaves sticks like glue.
The lighter brightens our shadowed faces.
I say I only want one, but God, how I need two.

We speak about writing in the laundry room.
"Metaphors, you use so many, but I only use a few."
Rape, heartbreak, murder and the death of innocence.
If you wanted to hide from yourself, any corner of my mind will do.

We write and speak like complete opposites.
But when you simply reverse the two...
She writes and I speak so bluntly.
But I write and she speaks like dead poets do.

We sit alone together in the streetlight.
Where our broken hearts steam and stew.
We are one in the same and completely different.
Cigarettes burning under dark brown and crystal blue.