Today, I smoked my last cigarette for you while I was staring at shades of green and lost love.

I inhaled my own emptiness wondering if I have already smoked my lungs to death.

I couldn't help but feel your touch as I took in the last moment of it all.

The touch of Butterscotch and Summertime.

I write because I'm in pain and over thinking things that don't need to be complicated.

Today I'm writing about love, because that is still what I feel for you.

My soul was covered in bruises and stitches.
One kiss of yours and my wounds were healed.

Now you're gone and my soul is forever weary and blue.

Blue, because that's the color of you.
I think blue will be my favorite color.

"Rebel Rebel" rings in my ears as
we drive on a haunted road
at 10:00 at night.

"Hand of God - Outro" sticks to me,
a roach on tape,
as his hand meets mine
and passes me a cigarette.

"Sober Up" gets him humming along
gets him tearing up
when we look up off the concrete and
name the stars.

"Requiem" is on my mind today
for he told me about those from
his past
and present
and future

"80's Films" is on repeat this morning
and I look through my photos
to see one of him
smiling and
laughing and
in love with life.

The first time in years I saw him in love with life
even for the length of a song.

The pharmacist at CVS says I am not prescribed an inhaler anymore.
so in it's place.
I prescribe myself cigarettes

I need something to inhale
cigarettes seem a logical alternative to inhalers

deliberatly I decide to not drive
to the cigar store.
i walk to the cigar store.

it is far enough to be inconvenient
which means maybe
If I am not destined to buy this cigarette
I will receive an overwhelming sensation to turn back

I always add time for potential divine intervention to my agenda.
It happens often enough to be logical

we may have different definitions of logical

the cashier asks my age
And I tell him 21.
I am 22.
somehow In the confusion of waiting for god to prescribe me an overwhelming emotional reaction to not buy cigarettes
Instead of an inhaler.
I forget a whole ******* year of my life.

this is great context for
How I trust myself when making decisions.
which is to say
I don't trust myself to make descisions.

I buy the cigarettes.

upon searching for the optimal location
to loiter and slowly **** myself.
I stumble upon the old teen center.
the first place I was a mentor.

Out the side of the building
There's this rock
Long enough to sit five or so children
two laying down.
it's Perferated like a candy bar
each rectangle curved slightly
custom fit to years of munchkin ****

this slump right here
this slump is my munchkin ****.

each break of chocolate
on the candy bar rock
has a ladyslipper growing behind it.
tips of the five purple flowers
stretch to align perfect with the tips of our childhood belly buttons

humbled, I brush the leaves
excavate delicately
this heirloom.
I had forgotten.

The sky is recovering When I lay myself on the rock.
light grey clouds that want to cry
an optimistic sun that won't let them

I Cover my face with an old journal
made of old book smell.
I smile into the pages.
my lips barely touching the silk threading of her binding.
I've never breathed so intimately
a new lover.
the tip of my nose tucked into her spine.
honeymoon phase, Intoxicating.
Still excited to be in love.

there's breath here
wisdom in the records of
loving young,
cherrishing this new book smell.
Filling your chest with it.

When memories are tangible
There are no more expiration dates

Fill my lungs with
the crisp of unturned pages,
worn leather covers
Soft silk crosstitches

Kiss air into me
from the space between your lines.
I know how intimate an untold story can be.

Today I started breathing
I fell in love With a metaphor.

I never did smoke that cigarette.

The only thing that has ever
Felt better pressed to my lips
Than the filter of
A burning cigarettes
Was the tail end of
I love you
Sent in your general direction