"I'm not photoshopped by your Facebook friend."
She breathes out smoke,
and tenderly moves it away from me, waving her thin wings.
She stands up to those monsterly women in the 'hood.
"They need cigarettes to blow smoke,"
she gloats with a puff and shake of her lean lizard physique,
"Their clothes so tight, their breasts crease into four boobs!'
She flies as wind beneath my wings spiritually
snapping a portrait of me from so high,
"You smile," she delivers in a text,
"You, I respect, forget the rest."