"There's a lot of stories
In every cigarette.
A lot of stories in
The one
Stained with my
Lipstick.
A lot of reasons
For the smoke making
Curly pictures
In my lungs.

"I'm smoking
a childhood,
Rolled in
Domestic violence
Court case
Papers,
And I'm drinking
Hope
For a future
I let go of
Years ago.

"The bags under
My eyes
Are packed with
Late nights of worry,
For my high school
Sweetheart's
Troubled adolescence,
And struggle for recovery.
I couldn't even
Fully close them.

"The slouch in my
Shoulders,
Is from giving up
The fight,
For a better life,
A better me,
It's made from
Acceptance of my
Lowly state,
And self pity.

"The tobacco scent,
Combined with
Other things...
Between my pointer
And middle
Fingers,
Is made of
Many meetings,
And hugs,
From family who
Didn't
Love
Me.

"Who am I?
Look at me.
I am possibility.
The eulogy for your
Battered youth,
And the future
You could have had.
I'm you,
If you let go."