Cigarettes Make Her Happy

Lying on the scratchy carpet
Glow from the lamp, tv and laptop illuminate that 
it needs vacuumed again, strands of hair are visible
But there I am, as usual, below you

The door slams because it’s easier than shutting it, you say
Down you sit, and my nose twitches
“Go to my email and check this for me”
I breathe in and grimace
Marlboro residue is thrown into my nostrils, enveloping 
both of us like a cozy blanket

That you thought you left out in the garage
Why is the email taking so long to load?

I breathe more shallowly, fold a hand near my nose and try to 
Smell myself?
Just anything, anything besides the smoke

I can’t complain though,
After all, you said
Cigarettes are about the only thing that make you

Your inbox finally fills my screen and you lean closer.
I know I shouldn’t complain
You do so much for me,
I know

It’s just the smoke
It feels hard to breathe
It reminds me of things.
I know it makes you happy,
So I don’t say anything

I won’t say anything, 
Just like you asked.

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