Addicted to a chain smoker

In spite of my racing mind,
my stumbling tongue cannot navigate
the sounds so familiar from
tracing the inside of your mouth.
My lips will never perfectly surround
those sharp words and cylinder of disease,
in the same manner of elegance that you so naturally achieve
never will my fingers tuck tighter,
my tongue touch more sensually
my hands and breath pull with such vigor
as your beautiful being will.
But never will your words dance across
this blank page, weaving a smokey scene
of obsession, as mine master with ease.
Never will your thoughts stream so fast
in a river of desperation and tension
birthing a current that leads my army
of thoughts to your doorstep.
I am a poet in everything I do.
And what are you? a chain smoker.
A chain smoker who has hooked me,
as your addiction has hooked you.

by Jacqueline Lucas, 17, John F. Kennedy School, Berlin Germany