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Daniel Sep 16
I take another breath,
I take another cigarette.

Smoke rises with regret,
but you help me deal with my stress.

I'm forever in your debt,
and forever in your book of dead.

I take another breath,
I take another cigarette.

My love, you smell of death,
but you always pull me from the edge.

I wish I would have left,
now you're always in my head.

Smoke rises with regret,
but you help me deal with my stress.

I take another breath,
I take another cigarette.
A poem I wrote about the love and hate I hold for cigarettes.
ari Mar 2
the putrid smell of cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey breath feels like home.
           His arms felt like home, too.
      I knew him as the boy who’d party all night and make plans with me the next day only to sleep the whole time.
              I knew him as ****** noses from ******* and the young emphysemic cough that would **** a small part of me every time I heard it.
     I knew him as that big, stupid ******* smile.
I knew him as the boy who’d ride his bike to my house but would always be too worn out to ride his bike with me.
          I knew him as far too charming for his own good.
I knew him as perfectly imperfect.
       I know him as cold and unempathetic.
I know him as the boy who refused to get on the phone with me for closure.
     I know him as unstable.
I know him as manipulative.
      I know myself as someone who will never be more important than *******.
I know myself as someone who will never be more important than cigarettes.
     I know myself as just another doll who was tossed to the side by a child who got bored.
     The fetor of a coffin nail and the acidic aroma of Highlands Red still reminds me of him—
                 but only the version of him that I knew.
my experience of falling in love with an addict
Isabel Aghahowa Jan 2019
my father
the holy spawn
who swims in black and blue catharsis
white needles
now grey and gold
empty gun chambers
that leave dead air for dead deers

the smoke from your frozen lips
causes a destruction that no one sees
except for the Father you keep

you roam around at night
it seems you've lost yourself in the moonlight
you leave trails of dust behind you
when you leave pieces of your life for death to find

i don’t see eyes
i see glass and vapour
and a life, that was left unloved
by a holy one
Tint Dec 2018
She is a smoker
no matter how people told her
to stop and breathe for life
She still smokes
oh! dear god
help the poor girl
heal her heart

A joint of bad memories
lit with fire from her eyes
she inhales the regrets
and intakes the hatred
she smoked and smoked
until she herself
she became hate
A Darkened Mind Nov 2018
Why do I want you so.
Your bad for me,
That I do know.
Yet I pull you inside,
Feel you within.
I can't give you up.
I always give in.
Steve Page Oct 2018
Standing smoking under the front light looking out into the night on the step of another flat share which for a while I can dare to call home wondering when I will own a place of my own where I can kick up a stink or pile up the sink, where I can strike a light, where I can curse as loud as I like, where I don't have to take myself outside and stand staring at nothing with nothing but my key and the glow of my roll-your-own for company.
On my way home i see men standing outside their no smoking allowed rented digs having a silent ciggy.
Makenzee Sep 2017
this cigarette that I press against my lips, will do way less damage to me than you ever did.
the taste will reside in my mouth momentarily, but it will vanish unlike your cherry chapstick that I'm trying to forget.
smoke clouds swirl around me before the wind blows it all away— reminds me of the lingering memories of you I can't help but to replay.
I might have a smokers cough someday, that's still better than enduring constant heartbreak.
the pack in my back pocket is the only sense of relief I get from the agonizing daydreams, I still see how your dress ended at the seams.
I was temporary to you, but you were permanent to me. . . exactly like all my bad tendencies.
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