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Kewayne Wadley Oct 2018
In the crease of her fingers
Is where she held me.
A history of thought,
Filtered.
Flaked off at the end.
It was her fingers I felt most comfortable.
That I could truly do anything.
Stuck between her middle and pointer finger.
Held high, upright.
Unprecedented in eclipse.
She'd press me to her lips.
Resuscitated.
Flaked at the tip.
Scatter ash
Where I felt most alive.
Nestled in the bend of her fingers.
My building without escape.
She'd set fire to my head.
& like a mad man I'd lay still.
This smoke, a place I wanted to be.
Our bad habit persisting
Day in and day out.
The only fact perhaps we truly have.
I'd unravel in loss of responsibility,
The nook of her fingers,
A universal sense of comfort.
Withered down.
Tossed to the wind.
Our history made short,
Recognizing that we were doomed from the start.
Smoking in front of the no smoking sign,
A habit we can't put down
Jillian Jesser Oct 2018
a man runs down the road
exercise brings comfort
but who needs comfort
when you have
beer
cigarettes
and a summer afternoon
Jillian Jesser Oct 2018
I grieve you
the way I grieve my last cigarette
knowing I'll have another
and another
and another
but I grieve him
the way I grieve the very last
knowing I'll spend eternity
searching for
just
one
drag
Shaxy Oct 2018
stop
using me
to
hurt
yourself.


yours sincerely,
cigarette sticks
Quit while you still can.
Jessica Ford Oct 2018
Standing here with Philip Morris
Looking over the Seine
Wanting to dive forward,
And let the water rush in.
I can’t shake this feeling,
Of internal depth.
I need to jump,
All the way to my death.
I want to be forgotten,
Never to be found.
Go so far into the river,
Where I can’t hear a sound.
Happiness and joy,
are full in the streets.
But inside of me,
I feel incomplete.
In this city,
I’m supposed to feel only love.
How come I can’t find it?
Why am I a lonely dove?
My mood is constantly up & down, and can change within hours. I wrote this when I wasn’t feeling so good. P.S. Phillip Morris are French cigarettes, and The Seine River is pronounced “sin”.
Mary Velarde Oct 2018
Where has the time gone by?
You used to love me
with all your heart.
And now you love me
with only the words
your mouth could afford
to decorate.

Where has the time gone by?
A chainsmoker bids goodbye
to his last cigarette.
And a lover,
oh her lover's love...
has begun to die.
Both flames
eventually lose ignition.
And oh,
where has the love gone by?
Gabriel Sep 2018
We often latch on habits that kills us
Cigarettes turn to painkillers
Liquor turns to cough syrups

I die everyday without a dose of heaven

As we picture out these habits
as an escape from reality
Aa Harvey Sep 2018
Nicotime


I just wanna ******* cigarette,
I just wanna ******* smoke.
I just wanna ******* cigarette,
Before I have to quit my job.


I just wanna ******* cigarette,
I just wanna ******* smoke.
I just wanna ******* cigarette,
Because this place is a ******* joke.


I just wanna ******* cigarette,
I just wanna ******* smoke.
I just wanna ******* cigarette,
So I think I’m gonna go home.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Emmalee Sep 2018
I once thought
That being in love
Was better than
Being alone

And then I realized
That with love
Sometimes comes tears
And an empty bed at night

Oh what a world it would be
If love could exist
Without any sadness
Any insanity

A blooming of cold nights
And cigarette smoke
Tend to be what love is
To me

And with you
I have found love
But have also learned
That love is not what I thought it would be
What ever happened to the honeymoon phase?
Daisy Rae Sep 2018
I haven’t always been an addict
I remember a time when I judged those who clung to bad habits like their life depended on it
I used to think why can’t they just stop?
I used to wonder why people would risk their lives just to feed that desire
If my 14 year old self knew me now she’d be ashamed
I wish I could go back and tell her that those friends are going to get you addicted
They’ll introduce you to things that you’ve always wanted to try
And eventually they’ll become things you can’t turn down
She probably wouldn’t believe me, she’s always been naive and stubborn  
I wish I could tell her that drinking only makes you forget for a little while
And that blurriness you feel only lets you escape for one night
And when you wake up the next morning the only thing you’ll look forward to is getting drunk again
you’re wrong she would say
I wish I could tell her that blunt won’t fix the loneliness in your heart
And that good feeling you feel right now is only temporary
And you’ll find yourself craving that again when your high is gone
You’ll blow your money that mom gave you on grams instead of what you told her it was for
you’re wrong she would say
I wish I slap that cigarette out of her mouth and tell her how addictive and deadly it is
And how mom would be so disappointed in her if she knew
And how stupid she was for allowing herself to succumb to all these things
It’s not that bad she would say
I wish I could tell her about the time she drank so much that she passed out in a strangers home and didn’t know where she was the next day
I wish I could tell her that she almost ran into a ditch and died because she was high while driving
I wish I could tell her how she couldn’t go a day without smoking at least 3 cigarettes and mom found out about it
you were right she would say when it was too late
Hooked on *****, drugs, and cigarettes
Crying alone in her room at 1 am, knowing that she couldn’t keep doing this
But not knowing how to stop
I wish I could tell her not to judge those people stuck on bad habits
Because one day that will be you too
And you still haven’t fully recovered
I can’t just stop she would say
And she still says to this day.
If I only could have warned my younger self
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