Nicotine-blackened lungs.

But nowhere near as black as the mutilated heart contained within this weary ribcage. The many, many nights spent staring into the silent white walls, a deadpan expression covering the whirlwind of turmoil and fracas bubbling just underneath the surface. Nights where shattered dreams and hopes were the only remnants of the shit storm we went through, together and yet not together.

Cigarette butts strewn on the floor next to the bed are the only indication of the broken pieces we left behind. All the pictures burnt and deleted, yet I cannot burn the memory of you from my mind.