Drunken poems never work for me.
Sitting outside,                      
Smoking my cigarette,
Clutching my bottle of momentary respite
But here I sit writing it.

You inspire this in me.
Not the drinking (to an extent)
But the writing.
Without you I would never of started
Without the pain you unknowingly cause

I smile even though I'm hurt.
You make me smile.
You make me hurt

I'm sad now so this is done.

When our sweat dries
          You light your cigarette
                   After I meet your needs.
Will I be like
          The curling smoke
                  You let disappear into the air?