don’t leave your cigarettes. (poetry).

smoketen cigarettes in a paper box.
no other scent, but yours;
the flavor to breathe in.

11 o’clock strikes,
my fingers shake.
your lips fit around
the end of the first stick.

second stick.
third stick.
fourth stick.
fifth stick.

my breath breaks,
my words falter.
your eyes kiss the color of dusk;
your features, undecipherable.

a weakling beneath your gaze.

fourth stick.
third stick.

the time runs
without any hesitation.

second stick.

one more minute.
i am under your pressure.

last stick;
last smoke.
midnight strikes.
your boots hum over the pavement.
“i am weak without…”



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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