Cigarettes And You
It was 3:15 am
when you came back from work,
dissolved in smokes of cigarettes,
your shirt dipped in Paris in bloom
perfume of your secretary,
as I was half-asleep,
you came into our
room,
to tell me that you are home,
checking marks upon my skin given by you last night,
while making love, painful yet satisfying,
kissing me with those smoke-smelled lips,
yeah, more than cigarettes,
I am addicted to those toxic kisses,
which are more of lust than love,
you have marked territories of yours on my body,
ardently digging your nails and teeth beneath my skin,
moaning name of your ex instead of me with each deep thrust,
later apologizing with some of those soured kisses,
saying it happened just like that,
unknowingly,
covering each sin of yours with some temporary affection,
as you are still in love with me,
with each passing time,
I saw you getting away from me and
your soul willingly liberated from mine,
as the love between us has been evacuated in those darker fog of betrayal,
Today,
we have been broken-apart,
those cigarettes are my companion now,
which carries your scent in every
fumes I inhale,
helping me to exhale those toxic
addiction of yours
and you,
maybe someone’s arm,
spurting out your toxicity,
but your traces,
they don’t lie here anymore.
