Lips slightly parted like two mountains
forever separated by a deep valley
As you bring the cancer stick to your
lips with such grace it almost beautiful
But really what beauty is there in a slow
self-destruction?

Deep breaths of air mixed with
tragic suicide enters your lungs,
A breath of escape or relaxation is
what you call it; a breath of death is the reality.

Breathing out, the smoke escapes your
lungs in strings of grey like the clouds in the sky,

Dissipating leaving no trace of the destruction it caused.