“& last night I went to the corner store to buy smokes / for a woman who was waiting for me in a bed / with sheets I could never afford / & I do not know what it is to crave smoke / but I do know what it is to crave the touch of a smoker / & want to hold them close until morning / & this is how I know the holy ghost lives inside of whatever is blown from the lips of the last person you kissed”

— Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib, from “Kirk Franklin Has to Be in Every Rap Song from Now On,” Vintage Sadness
(via lifeinpoetry)