do not finish your cigarette or empty your glass.

cigaretteI know you breathe smoking more than our bodies – it is the nicotine air trespassing your fragile lungs that you deeply pray for. I am only the tub of your cigarette and not its leaves – I will be the last to receive your graces.

But it is fine.

At nights, I do not question why you reek alcohol or why you suddenly have blue bruises around your eyes. I asked you once but I mirrored your cuts. I have decided to zip my lips and just help you out of your drunk clothes.

But it is fine.

I am your darkest secret you leave behind before the new morning comes. I am the skinned human without blood – patiently waiting for your return after you kiss your wife and greet your children. I am the sacrifice your body needs – the release your mind extremely craves. I am under the well with my lonely tears – suffocating myself with my decision to stay.

But it is fine.

You lock my gaze with your mad eyes and I notice how the red light of your cigarette release its last air. You pluck the end barrel of your cigarette to my handmade carpet. You drink the last drop of the whiskey from your glass before you slam it on the coffee table before you. You are about to leave.

Give me a minute to get out and buy you a new pack; please sit down and wait until I have a new bottle of branded whiskey and a tube of ice.

Give me another hour of you.


WORD COUNT: 262

Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.

let me hold your words before you leave;

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