Cigarette

 

I take a step or two closer to the door of the house

Before I even knock

I can smell the scent

Of his cheap cologne and expensive sweat

I try to lift my fist, but a lighter falls out of the pocket of the coat

I thought would protect me from any outside threats

 

Before I even get the chance to knock

The door swings open

And he's standing there with slick black hair and an amazing smile

Squinting his eyes away from the sun

I'm trying to control my rising bile

 

The wrapped cylinder being bit by his pointy teeth

Rests in between his soft lips

He winks and bends down to pick up the lighter that fell onto the concrete

And offers it to me before saying my name

I refuse and rush into the house of many games

 

I try to open my mouth

But his opens first and bites down on my face

Trying to find an open space

To burn with his unlit cigarette

I push him off lightly

And he holds his addictions up in fake defeat

Then lights up his smoke

And falls to his knees

 

He takes his first drag

And then I count two and three

Before he stands and grabs towards me

I try to pull away because suddenly I couldn't breath

But this only made him angry and stronger

He wouldn't let me be free

I hear him yell at me and I try to yell back

But before I could he breathes me into his lungs

Waiting for the feeling of fulfillment

And then ever so slowly pushes me out

Letting my arms and legs wrap around him like the smoke of a short lived fire

 

 

I try to explain why I showed up today

But he smashed his weapon to the ground and I watched the tobacco die away

The lighter was still in his hand

And I knew this was the last time he would ever let me in if I did

So I leaned over and kissed him again

As I focused my eyes on the broken drug

That had never longed to live

 

If our love had ever been more about us and less about him

Then maybe he wouldn't have needed me

And my aura of pretend

And maybe I wouldn't have needed

The coat and a weapon

And maybe you wouldn't have lost your wind

 

Maybe if we had just started out slow

You wouldn't have smashed me

And buried me 6 feet under wet snow

Just so you could dig me out and force me to smolder

While you flew off

Like the last wisp of smoke

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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