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Red heat burns at the extension of my
Fingertips, ashes stoked for a second night of
Inhalation.

Clandestine wetted brown sinks it’s teeth
Into my lips again, it’s breath in my lungs a smoky
Tessellation.

Warmth fills me for the first time in
Months, but a fire lit myself pales dimly in
Comparison

To yours. And yet, there is welcoming comfort in
Knowing that it’s closeness won’t flee the
Garrison

At the first sign of invading intimacy. The risk of
Cancer here is but longing brought to
Manifest.

Cut me with glances, burn with touch. Gods and devils
Both pine for the heart you’ve already
Possessed.
Cigars burn as hearts do sometimes.
Cigarettes and coffee and you.

If I had to name three things I couldn't live without,
I guess those would be the things. But it’s not an addiction,
per say. I only like cigarettes when your callused fingers
offer them to me,
your wordless expression showing concern and contentess.
I blow away our pain and worries and pass it on for later,
thinking I’ll make some coffee again today.
For both of us like I usually do.
Coconut milk in yours and creamer in mine, right?


My toes are suddenly cold
I dip them in these tender aqua waters,
juxtaposing itself with the Tampa humidity
that laces my cup. I can't tell if
you resting your arms around my waist
brings a fire within me
or if it gives me chills.
I start swaying to some synonymous tune
that happens to play in both of our heads at this moment,
even though the only music is
the wind whistling
through the shells and stems of the palm leaves.

My lips are, coffee and cigarette and you stained.
The painful heat always disrupts this heavenly time for us.

So we’ll meet here, same time tomorrow.
I wouldn't want to live without it.
annh Sep 2020
Pale-faced beneath twilight’s awning, shadowed time skips
A beat measured in dust motes and attic silence;

Frameless ether holds its breath and portrait likenesses
Swivel eyes right, suspended between the minute and the hour;

In sequence, Whittington’s chiming sepia tones wring out
A tulip of port and one last cigar from drapery long hung;

As floral meanders unwind from a walnut casing
Inlayed with the gamine whimsies of our cherried youth.

‘At the beginning of time the clock struck one
Then dropped the dew and the clock struck two
From the dew grew a tree and the clock struck three
The tree made a door and the clock struck four
Man came alive and the clock struck five
Count not, waste not the years on the clock
Behold I stand at the door and knock.‘
- Eric Lomax
Francesca Apr 2020
Oh my.
What a cruel world
Lots of people suffer
They couldn't fathom the reality
I breathe out the smoke in my lungs
"Oh yes, a cruel world it is"
I voiced out my thoughts
As I looked at the dead body lying beside me
mjad Oct 2019
Of all the fun I've ever had
Almost all I've never told you
From getting tattoos
To house parties with my crew
Almost all I've never told you
Seeing rappers you hate
Spending more than I earn
Staying out till the suns back up kinda late
Crashing at boys houses and talking to their mom
While smoking cigars and sharing more than lip balm
My friends knowing all the stories I've never told you
But you never knew, never found out about
The times I don't want to forget
You don't know about them yet
And my only regret out of all of it
Is that I can't tell you one bit
Part 4 to "Fun"
Wanderer Sep 2019
The smoke licks my fingertips
as I light the cigar
a fix of nicotine on a bad day
a way to keep the bad thoughts at bay
A long pull fills my mouth
with a bitter taste of artificial grape
A low for me I guess you could call it
A hypocrite I guess you could call me
Tatiana Aug 2019
Outside the cigar shop is an elderly man
he is leaning against a parking meter
fumbling the quarters he pulls from his deep pockets
and dropping them into the machine
the metal clinking as it accepts the change
and only reading 20 minutes
the old man scowls at the meter and puts in more coins
until it reads 1 hour
he digs around in his pockets and turns them inside out
he has no more
grumbling to himself, he pushes away from the meter
entering the cigar shop
and I'm left sitting in my car wondering
how we can spare some change for more time
for the things that will lessen the time we already have
©Tatiana
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