each puff i exhale,
with ragged breathe i take,
each one represents the echoes of yesterday,
the screaming,
the pain,
the anger i felt when you got up and said, "i'm done" and i said, "okay".
i inhale the sweet nicotine,
eyes closed,
feeling the melancholic sense that maybe, i shouldn't have let that one go,
exhale the smoke,
the heartache,
the state of denial when that fist hit the dry wall in our room,
the suprise i felt,
when the hands that held me gently,
now left purple bruises on my chest.
i inhale again,
and forgot that the man i once loved,
is the man who'll hurt me in the end.