i want to be the cigarette
nestled between
ur nails cropped short
while ur saliva
pulls apart in strings
as u take me
in
and
out of ur mouth.
&
i wanna feel like i’m in a movie again
smoke tendrils wisping in the gray los angeles air,
the oxygen u drag
deep into me
serving as my only option
of life support —~**
and i don’t care if i’m just ur dirty lil secret
or if u slander me with funny lil names like
‘toxic’
and
‘bad 4 my health’
because i know ur addicted,
as my scent burrows heavy into
ur clothes
ur hair
ur skin…
cus when i’m between ur lips
i finally feel wanted
at least for a moment,
until u decide ur done,
crushing the light out of my eyes
beneath the grooves of ur docs
because it was never me u loved
but only the act of using me up,
addicted to moving on to the next cigarette
in the carton
and then the next carton
and the next
without the decency to even drop me in a receptacle,
leaving me lying next to a public bench in weho
beside an abandoned bottle of mayonnaise
never to be thought about again
until maybe forty years later
when ur lil habit has turned malignant in ur lungs.