I take a draw
of my cigarette
and the
way the smoke dances
reminds me of
how you used to dance,
slow and ****,
a striptease of sorts,
sliding that body
out of
the
black dress
like a
snake
shedding her skin.

The glow of
the cigarette end
is beginning
to fade,
and the last ashes
of you fall
broken to
the ground. I
can’t repair you
anymore, I have
neither the tools
nor the patience.
I have to leave you
as I
find you,
and you must leave
me the way
you found me,
looking for you with
another cigarette in my pocket
and no
light.