there’s something really comforting
about the smell of cigarette on your fingertips
the act is disgusting
I loathe to partake in it
but the smell is warm
and comforting
like being around someone you’ve known
your whole life
like your father, lighter in hand, sneaking out the back door
and smiling and letting you sit with him
like lying in the grass
closing your eyes
and feeling your pores
engulf sun rays