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Emily

I laughed and told her she’d go to Hell for that
But she smirked and rested her delicate hand on her chin,
the smoke from her cigarette rising to the night sky,
Her soft lips open and say, “no. I’m bound for Heaven,”
I laugh and ask “how could you possibly get into Heaven?”
She looked out onto the water,
took a long drag,
exhaled,
“I’ve done my time in Hell.”
We sat in silence,
listening to the unwavering sounds of the city:
the water hitting the docks,
the bustle of cars and people.
We sat all night in comfortable silence,
and when the first signs of morning appeared,
I reached over, took her cigarette and tossed into the water.
She quizzically stared at me,
I looked into those charcoal smeared eyes and said,
“no need to get to Heaven soon.”
She smiled at me with that Emily smile,
the one that said “you’ll never know me.”
I was always okay with that, intrigued by it,
never knowing what she was thinking
what she would do next.
But I wish I had known how soon she wanted to be there.

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