
Inhale,
inhale,
inhale–
Taking another deep drag on a menthol cigarette I bought last night.
The aftertaste of nicotine still lingered since the moment I put out the stub. I decided to smoke another one. I inhaled. And again. And again. And again. Overwhelmed by pleasant dizziness, I closed my eyes. The smoke occupied the void within me. It tastes like your kiss. It tastes exactly like your kiss.
The aftertaste of your kiss still lingered since the night you pulled away. I decided to smoke another one. I inhaled. And again. And again. And again. Overwhelmed by suffocating emptiness, I closed my eyes. The smoke tainted the blankness within me. It tastes like you. It tastes exactly like you.
The aftertaste of you still lingered since the day you walked out of my life. I decided to smoke another one. I inhaled. And again. And again. And again. Overwhelmed by overbearing heaviness, I closed my eyes. This time, nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I miss you. I still miss you.
“It is the only way
to breathe you in
again.”
