You were diet coke and slimming tea
You were everything I could never be
You were hallway laughter and bathroom tears
You were a way to waste my teenage years
You were an excess of bitter coffee shots
You were what made up my 4 am thoughts
You were the first stolen cigarette on my lips
You every beat that my heart skipped

And now you are none of this.

I'm coughing up my lungs again,
smoking cigarettes I never had any intention of starting.
This isolation becomes inhalation
but it seems I cannot breath anymore.

Constantly searching for satisfaction I will never find
because it is found inside of things
I do not trust myself enough to keep
somehow I ruin everything.

Shallow tendencies weighing heavy inside of me
I guess I prefer semblance over substance.
So here I go again, locked inside an idea
rather than an entity.

I don't trust myself with sincerity-
too wrapped up inside attention
to be able to hold on to anything.

Carrying love would be too much.
I would crush the weight of it in my palms-
ash it like one of my cigarettes.

It would disappear every time I inhale.
It would disappear every time anyone got too close.

So I do not let them,
I tremble inside walls
and long hours
and become nothing
because that is what is expected of me.

Maybe I will gain the courage
by seeking someone that doesn't scare me so much.
Or maybe I just like the rush.

Stuck in an endless cycle of wanting love
and being scared of what it does to me.

So I **** down another cigarette
knowing this smell will stay with me.

Knowing this is as close to commitment as I will ever get.

::::::::

...measured footsteps were hushed
....but the floor squealed and creaked
......door slowly, carefully was opened,
.........the hinges...all but squeaked...

cool sea breeze rushed in,
through the glass windows
...and half-opened door,
...stoking the ember of a cigarette
...resting on an ash tray....barely half-smoked...

flowered curtains danced and swayed
cigarette smoke snaked......and spread
within the small space of the sala,
white smoke...blended with the room's gray mood,
...and the low lamp glow.....while on the radio,

Miles Davis' "Smoke Gets In Your Eyes,"
........................played on...

there was too much noise
in the silence  that wrapped
the cottage........thundering...yet,
unheard, by the lady seated on the floor,
silent...with a cold gaze...agape...though, not
of splendor...from the creamy full-moon above,
her one hand, a few inches from her throat
that hurt so much....fingers reaching,
...towards her slim, silky neck....gasping,
....catching precious breath
'til there was no more......just death...
smoke was fading,
from the cigarette's dying ember...

.............radio was playing,
................"Every Breath You Take."



Sally

Copyright March 12, 2018
rrab

There was this thing
that I still can't forget about you

Two conflicting scents
But both are intoxicating
in their own way

the scent of cheap fabric softener that I fairly used
and
filtered cigarette smell sticking on your jacket sleeves

Maybe if I miss you that much,
I could try to recreate
that smell on my sleeves too

Stuffed the words you said
Down my throat;
Followed quickly by the flick of tongue,
Swallowed the words you said,
Dogged with cigarette smoke,
In hopes,
You meant them.

Half Smoked Cigarette

She is my last half-smoked cigarette
that taste is still on my lips.

With each puff
she took few moments of my life.

Smoke of her memory
still covers my body and soul
like mist.

My existence is scattered
like the ash
dazed and doomed
It will never be the same again.
as it was once.