Hold that Light to my Cigarette

(Day 4 NaPoWriMo)
Hold that Light to my Cigarette

and watch my world become a
puff of smoke.
Dancing Chantilly lace
at the edge of my nose
and the end of vision
tickles my toes and
makes my fingertips buzz
with profound anticipation, knowing that
every breath I take is a breath
that may make me cry.

Don't worry.
I've done more to myself
than to you or another
and there's a place in my
heart where your smile
had been.

But, that don't matter now.
What matters now is that that
hole fill itself with smoke.
It don't make me choke anymore,
thank the Lord for that.
Embarrassing that, having
to choke down the dreams
of Brando and Wayne.
Now, it's a cold comfort,
like holding hands
in the hospital bed
as the last beep beeps and the
last rise of the chest is followed by
a steady churn in the bowels.

So, please. Please, hold that light for me
while I breathe in your flame and filter
it through black tar so that it sticks
to the inside of me.


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