Cigarette Castle

Cigarettes dangle in the pout your fingers once filled;
With the packets I've gathered, I've built the castle once promised.

Afternoons that smell of stale lipstick; half-awake eyes that feel cigarette smelling fingers over wet eyelashes...

Damn you, the checked shirt

Photograph

“The photograph does not call upon the past…The effect it produces upon me is not to restore what has been abolished (by time, by distance) but to attest that what I see has indeed existed.”
-Rolland Barthes