Like the ashes on cigarette, I fall.

It left traces of its remnants on your mouth.
The horrible, horrible taste of tobacco,
tasting as they smell.
And yet I still craved the flavor
of the cigarette, as well as your mouth.
Two parlous vices which I wanted to have
until I couldn't breathe.

Like the ashes on cigarette, I burn

The fire would ignite from within me,
fueled by your clout presence
and burn the old, stalwart bridges
of decade-old friendships.
It burns fields of daisies
and carnations that I have tried to bloom.
I am self-destructing in your consent,
you do not seem to mind.

Like the ashes on cigarette,
I am thrown away

Forgotten on a pale ashtray,
a ruined, ugly reminder
You pay no mind to the now apathetic, rolled up paper
as you reach for another stick in your pack,
I had failed to notice that I
was merely the first one you have consumed.