This Guilty Smoke.

Another hour dragging by, heavily. I feel the weight of every second
I feel the strength  with which every minute pushes me lower.
Cramps in the stomach, sweat lightly making its way to my forehead.
I stare right out and see smoke. Wet smoke, covered in rain, tempting me.
Another hit of this excruciating pain and another glimpse of the sky.
Smoke. I see in the drizzle. Smoke, making its way through.

Panting heavily, trying to catch breathe and not giggle.
My lower lip tastes of blood and my nails left same on his chest.
I breathe and try to inhale as much as I can. The hotness and humidity in the room
Reminds me the smell of burning tobacco leaves . With each sip I would drink in relief
Suck in the hot burnt smoke, feel the paper blackening and turning into ash.
The red hot tip of my cigarette, takes me in like this lover did.

It was a gathering, huge crowds of people running around.
Populating every inch around me, whispering, screaming, shouting, laughing
Their empty words echo through my head and rustle up my hair.
Many touch and push. I crawl and slip away through the herd.
My head throbs, its the same pain. I feel it travelling to my legs, and I cannot stand.
This helplessness is miserable. I find a place. Sit down and light.

Another night, ushering in loneliness and silence. The green friend
Is a pleasant company. I whisper to the light smoke, which leaves its fragrance
Every place it goes. It caresses the headache, and caresses my heart.
I talk to it about the love I can't have and the one I didn't have. We whisper quietly
All night and talk it through. With every kiss, it would tell a tale.
And soon, it would hold my hand and put me to sleep. Like my lover would do.