Her lips taste like cigarette smoke
even from a thousand miles away.
Her eyes smolder whistfully in my memory like tobacco ashes,
ashes that her eyelids would flick deftly from her cheeks
to the pavement at random intervals
under both cloudy or clear skies.
Her soul burning slowly down to the filter
until there is nothing left
and whether cloudy or clear
the ash-touched sky
tastes like regret.
On DVerse the prompt is to write about an emotion or abstract concept. What does it taste like?