the taste of smoke + other things

ik this is a bit diff from what i usually do but here are some poems+short schutff i wrote! enjoy :)

The taste of smoke

I used to imagine smoke to taste like a wispy dream. A soft, tasteless yet delicate thing. Now, I think of it as a bitter, harsh creature that leaves a muddy trail of tar wherever it resides. Many believe that smoke is a pretty instance of air that flutters by, a feeling that you can touch and caress all over. I also truly believed you could touch it, but when I tried, it touched me instead. 

Smoke is why I died that day.

Jam and jelly 

I could never tell

The difference

Between jam

And jelly

Just like i could never

Tell the difference

Between hungry

And full

A real vampire

I thought the man

At the gas station

With the sharp fangs

Was a vampire

His stature

His velvety eyes

Bony hands

And dark hair

Convinced me

He truly was

Turns out

He wasn't a vampire at all

Just an abnormally tall man

With sharp teeth

Because of the decay

All of his smoking habits caused

A thin slice of nothing is colourful…

Rain

My glasses were a foggy wet mess from the rain. I couldn't see anything, only blurred textures of whatever was in front of me. I tried wiping the water droplets from the lenses with my handkerchief, but it ended up becoming a mess of dark red liquid smudged all over, like a cacophony of colour. Alas, my glasses were never foggy, It was just my eyes, and my handkerchief was all bloody.