I Never Quit Smoking

The lampshade bleeds a soft amber light beside my chair.

My eyes are closed as I recline.

I don't need to open them to know that you won't be standing there

Anytime soon.

Or any time.

But when I remember the way your cigarette smile smoldered,

The ashen corners withering in the wind when you told me

Your resolution --

Then I open my eyes.

My lips are still scarred from your kisses,

Too burnt to withstand the weight of another's touch.

However, to allocate blame to you would be unfair.

I'm the one who picks my scabs daily,

Unwilling to let them stitch into a weak pink,

To surrender these wounds to memory.

As it is, my smile is a gruesome thing;

Cracked and torn,

The victim of my own stubbornness. 

Reviews

[FJ Davis]

You keep what is, apparently, all you have left of her; a painful momento, but a momento nonetheless.
Stark imagery; strong use of language.
Leastways, that's how I see it, Ben of the Taylor Clan.