My Last Cigarette

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You are my last cigarette.
The flimsy promise,
I shakily whisper
Whilst balancing you between my lips.
I try not to anxiously stare
As I strike the match, and
Ignite the fiery passion
That was once our love.
Forever committing,
To the hazy mirage
That this will be the last time we meet.

You are a cancer.
The burning tar that
Slithers down my throat,
Nesting in my lungs, and
Corroding everything you touch.
You take my breath away, and
Replace it with ashes.
Nothing more, than
A relentless distraction;
You invade my every thought with ease.
Oh, how I long to gently
Wrap you in my fingers, and
Press you cautiously
Against my lips.
I realize now,
That our love
Is far from healthy.
Somehow,
You've become my disease.

You are my craving.
The subtle aroma that lingers
Around every corner;
Your taste, your warmth, your smell.
Biting my nails and tapping my fingers.
You're no where to be found,
And yet, I can't escape you.
They tell us we don't belong together;
I know it's for the best.
It might be hard now,
But eventually - I hope.
I'll forget all about you.

You are my mistake.
The temptation outside the bar,
In which every shot of tequila
Makes slightly more attractive.
Toxic desires throw me at your feet,
Only vindicating my inability
To resist your familiar touch.
My mind races recklessly
Along a jagged terrain of
Joyful satisfaction, and
Regret-filled tears.
Swerving off, pebbled cliffs,
No longer in control;
I am at your mercy.

You are my last cigarette.
The déjà vu mocking
My consciousness, and
Nightmare haunting my slumber.
When I wake up the next morning,
Cradled in your arms, silently staring
Into your arrogant, crooked grin.
I'll replay the words in my head
That I've come to know so well,
"You are my last cigarette."
Then I'll kiss you,
One last time.





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