You are just like
the first drag of smoke.

As soon as I let you in,
I choke
and want you out.

Don't ask me why my hands are shaking when
the rain just put out the last
of my cigarettes and i can't find my
keys because i misplaced them while looking for  the dark green lighter i found last night
in the wet grass of the house you said goodbye in.
I'm becoming shorter of breath the
longer I stand here
and these cobblestone skies are closing in on me and God knows this is the last place
I want to be stuck
Pick any house on the map
and I'll tell you what's happened there
and how many beer cans I crumpled
in the musty garage
or how many times my hand has grasped the doorknob of a bedroom
I'll tell you that the yellow house on the left side of 163rd had me laughing until I no longer
thought I was in my body
and I'll tell you that
the yellow house on the left side of 196th
had me wishing I never existed
at all
Inside white walls I took too many hits and
the smoke built up on the walls so thick
I had no choice but to stay
the night in your arms
In between wooden panels and a seemingly impossible staircase you kissed me
up
every
step
and going back down seemed like a sin
i absolutely
could not commit.
By now I am in an all too familiar place
to be feeding off old habits
so I break away from those bitter lips
and I run out to the same woods
I've seen a million times-
And I know that this is what makes this home