You Were My Cigarettes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Captured moment of someone realizing that the process of recovery from an addiction in love and cigarettes are similar.

Submitted: August 21, 2012

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Submitted: August 21, 2012

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The stench of my cigarette smoke is still overcoming in the small enclosed space of my room.

I quit smoking for about a week now but the smell is still strong.

This scent used to smell sweet to me, comforting, and a source of my strength.

This scent was the scent we both shared when we smoked together.

We puffed our cigarettes together and exhaled large clouds of dreams.

The swirling smoke emanating from our cigarettes curled together,

intertwined,

like us.

Smooth like silk, the soft fog becomes one and envelopes the room.

The nauseating smoke was like an ocean of serenity, for both of us.

We floated on by, together, without a care in the world.

Now, you're gone but the scent still lingers on.

The scent that once comforted me, now burns through my eyes and my nose.

It smells like bubbling chemicals passing through my nostrils.

I can't stand it.

I hate it.

I can't breathe.

While this smell is still present around me, present in my clothes and my hair,

thoughts of you will never go away.

Like the stench, thoughts of you seeped into the walls,

stained the paint,

and hovers over the ceiling.

You,

just like my cigarettes,

used to make me feel good,

even though, you both were bad for me,

killing my body and soul, slowly.

Now, I quit you both.

The memories still haunt me

but soon

I'll be able to break free,

and breathe free.


© Copyright 2017 coradiamond. All rights reserved.

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