the stench of nicotine still lingers on my fingertips.
i go to scratch my nose,
catch the smoke,
and prepare for the nausea to peak.
but it doesn't.
this time something's different.
i no longer think of my grandfather,
his face wrinkled and worn, his eyes sunken, lying in a hospital bed surrounded by those he loves and who love him.
grieving a life not yet lost.
no.
i no longer think of my grandfather,
but you.
of you and me sitting in your backyard.
the sun soundly sleeping while the moon keeps watch.
sitting with you, i felt invincible.
even with the nicotine flowing through my veins,
the dopamine hitting my brain.
i feel invincible.