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Faith Sep 4
They smelled of coffee and tobacco
          But not in a poetic way
          The way that makes me want to
          get away from you
I can smell the addiction in your breath
Madi Dinneen Jul 19
a hoarse-voiced
******* the
radio
sings about living on nicotine
and coffee

but nowadays that’s just a teenage girl with
a juul.
the bathrooms all smell like cotton candy and lung cancer.
Leila Feb 7
breath you in
breath you out
you are the one
i cant go a day without.

**** with my head
bad for my health
if you wish
you can have me dead.

always thirsty for you
toxic but i still love you
never stop making me feel this way
would you ?

I'd kiss you all day
if i had my way
with a hazy mind
and my eyes grey.
nicotine really is injurious to health
I’m in hell of a mess
with nicotine wracking at my chest.

But…

I like to think the aftermath doesn’t exist
at night when I’m smoking a cigarette.
When I’m as high as the clouds,
I never want to come down.

Because no one knows what it’s like
to be in need of something else.
To finally have power, even between your teeth.
Inhaling in toxins just to breathe.
Ksh Nov 2019
There's a cigarette between my lips.
I taste the flavor, inhale the familiar scent
even before I flick the lighter to life.
There's something to be said about the difference
between the thought of smoking, and actually seeing it through.
I'd be the one to say it, but my mouth is currently preoccupied.

The first inhale is like a breath of fresh air,
which is ironic, given the nature of the vice.
But there it is -- a sweet escape, a brief release from the world that I've been in and decided that I've stayed for one second too long.
A dark, smoky finger invading my senses
as a cat grazes against your leg,
soft, but heavy; intending to make its presence known
with the gentlest touch, the murmurs of a purr.
It fills my lungs, and in a moment of hesitation
I feel peace as though, at any moment,
I could decide that I wouldn't want to breathe again.

The exhale is slow, the puff slowly escaping,
ascending to the heavens, dissipating like
dew on the grass on some mornings,
the fog that covers the skyline.
All that's left is the ghost of what was,
for a fleeting moment, an affair from the reality I've known.

And when the fire dies down
and the **** gets extinguished,
there is only what remains on my lips.
Nicotine, your name, whatever the hell it is --
I just know that it's intoxicating, addicting;
every time I run my tongue over chapped skin,
it's as if I'm chasing the very last time I've ever tasted you;
And every swig at the cold, hard rim of a bottle
makes me think of sloppy kisses on a cold winter night,
hands fumbling, nervous giggling;
of promises pieced together through incoherent moans breathed onto flushed skin;
Of empty sheets and ***** clothes,
no phone numbers to call, no names to tattoo,
nothing that can tie me to the possibility of a 'next time';
"Because there won't be a 'next time';
there can be no 'next times'."
But I guess --
I chose the wrong day to quit.

The cycle repeats, the toxicity stays,
and yet I revel in the concept of
not thinking, not planning,
just -- being.
In that moment, under the stars:
As if Time had stopped, and the sky was alight,
and I felt like I had the whole world
fit in the palms of my hands.

Because for someone that tastes so, so wrong,
you feel so, so right.
Randy Johnson Nov 2019
I'm happy to say that I quit smoking half a year ago.
It's been six months today since I last smoked tobacco.
When I was presented with the opportunity to quit, I decided to reach out and grab it.
All that I needed was some nicotine patches and faith in God to be able to kick the habit.
I quit smoking even though it's not an easy thing to do.
If you're a smoker who wants to quit, I believe in you.
Hunter Sep 2019
I take three long hits.
For a moment my lungs fill up,
The nicotine hits my brain,
And for a moment.
I forget how to breathe,
Like I’m suffocating.
Do It every night
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