Cigarette Walks

I watch my heart dissolve
In emotionless pieces
Hovering over my head

Shriveled and curled
Tearless skulls
And intricate, white lines

Heavy feet and heavy steps
Under the river, the streetlights
The abandoned train station

I watch, the last little bit
Burn, on the veins of my wrist
Like a sparrow, in momentary bliss

Becki Eaton is a sophomore majoring in marketing and minoring in creative writing. She plays ice hockey and rugby. She started writing short stories in small journal with crayon drawings when she was little. Now, she has been especially fond of writing poetry.