chain smoking because it makes me feel better about where I am in the world.
For these few moments, I am alone in a cloud of smoke and smell and I am comfortable.
I am quiet and the world is quiet.
There is a feel between my fingertips and on my lips that I know.
It is a feel that occupies my hands and mouth and it is not your feel, and I am better.
I would smoke this cigarette forever if I was sure that it would stop the sense of your skin on mine, allowing me freedom from that ghostly reminder of your being.
This used to be the feeling to calm me when you could not, and now it is my escape from you.
The cold February has rendered fingers senseless now, and if I have not thanked winter for anything, I will thank it for this.
0 more than before:
Post a Comment
I love to talk.