At first, I thought she smoked a little too many cigarettes for my comfort... It wasn't until after I felt what it was like to be held in her hands, and set on fire, that I understood why all the cigarettes gravitated towards her lips... They wanted the same thing I wanted - to be ignited, and spent and reignited over and over again. 

This was the beginning of my second life, and after I'm spent, I hope her lips are waiting at the start of the next.



You are made of the same stuff as miracles