My sweater smells like cigarette smoke.
When I got out of the shower
I put it back on.
It's funny how things evolve.
That scent used to mean cold nights
And neon lights,
A crowd of people full of piercings and my dad's silhouette ahead
Pushing through the crowds on St. Marks,
Lungs full of thick second-hand soot,
Heart full of excitement and love for my city.
It was a tunnel of smoke I had to get through fast,
And I would hold my breath that entire street,
Not wanting the burn of it in my mouth.
As I got older it also started to mean
That my best friend had found a new way to hate herself.
I noticed a sourness to it,
Something that hurt my throat,
Like the feeling right before you cry.
I never did like cigarette smoke.
To me it meant
A gruesome marriage of death and the desire to die,
A ****-you to a world whose clarity amazed me.
I never liked cigarette smoke.
And then I met you.
And now here I am, with a bit of it clinging to my sweater,
Comforted by burying my face in the soft fabric
Because the fragrance reminds me of you.
Funny, how things can change so completely.
Whenever I smell smoke, now, I think of you,
And I have noticed that the scent itself has changed
Into a richer one, like incense.
It's funny what loving someone can do,
Huh?