Soggy Cigarette

Shaking hands light a soggy cigarette.

One drenched in salty tears.

So when you breathe in smoke,

It bites back in your mouth.

Denim shorts soaked,

Laying down in the middle of the road.

It's raining, stinging your eyes.

You don't close them though,

The pain is company when you're alone.

Sparks die out in wind and water.

No point in killing your lungs in a downpour.

Flames falter quickly against the weather.

So you lay in the wet bitumen,

Not yet willing to get up.

Beginning to question, what you're really after.

If spending leisurely time here,

In the way of cars and trucks.

Is it really a time-worthy matter?

Though sun sets and stars replace it.

One day you'll become a star.

Not a bright one with an oceanic tint.

But one that's dying and begging to be lit.

It won't be, it'll remain dull and timid.

It'll droop and lose its wings.

Fights the ever lasting need to fly.

It'll fall hard and endless in a spaceless sky.

Just like you on a lonely night.

Though you have no wings nor need to fly.

So you're grounded in gravel,

In rain and thunder, wishing on stars.

Praying to die.

Author's Note

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