kg

the best way to explain it to you is this:
this cigarette at my lips is nothing more
than a placebo;
a psychological substitute
in which nicotine is a substitute for sugar,
because i need to feel the press
of something,
anything,
against these pleading lips.

if yours cannot or will not met my own,
then i'll pretend that each caress
is from you.
what's the difference anyway?
if it were you, i'd still be gasping for air,
weary from inhaling too deeply.
if it were you, i'd still be addicted,
if only from the taste.
if it were you, i'd line up each and every
makeshift kiss.
and you wonder why
i smoke a pack a day.

you blame the cigarettes.
this helpless little habit, this helpless
little girl.
to be honest, it isn't the likely suspects;
no silly carcinogen could do me in
the way that you have.
it was you that kept this going.
it was without your kiss
that i inhaled my way into the arms
of a more comforting alternative,
you are the cancer deep inside my lungs.
the smoky breath i exhale even spells your name,
if only for a moment,
and although you were the cause,
you can be the cure.
please, just be my cure.

always,
-k.