Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2019
I ******* hate
That I have to quit smoking.
I'm not a quitter.

Smoking fills the gaps in time
Between teenage self-awareness and
And sleep of any kind.  
I crave to feel the smoke inside
Slowly eating at my pride.
I don’t want to live as long as you
And watch the world divide.

It’s what I do when you are mad
It’s what I do to **** the pain
At least when my hands are doing this
I forget your cold disdain.

At this point, it’s pure economics.
I don’t want to stop
I love the power of choice, even if that choice
Is poor.  
But you can’t pull your weight without me,
So smoking, nevermore.
Written by
Richard Yeans
214
     Rich Hues
Please log in to view and add comments on poems