Passion and Smoke
J. Swaney 02-07
Swaney3@gmail.com
I remember when we met.
I was shiny and new.
My cellophane was crisp and unblemished.
I could feel your excitement and anticipation.
Gently and carefully you opened me.
With loving hands you held me to your nose and inhaled my scent.
But slowly things changed.
I became crumpled and worn.
You burned me again and again.
As I grayed you ground me with your heel,
You tossed me, and neglected me.
Stained with your lipstick, I was forgotten and forlorn.
One day I rode with you in your Taurus.
Crumpled and forgotten like last years sunglasses.
I watched you return from the quicky-mart.
You had your new lover in your hand.
He was like me, only younger.
I died a little as you caressed him.
Very good. I could feel the emotion and heartache. Even when we try to turn our hearts to stone over a broken relationship, once we see that person with someone else, it's difficult to take. Well written!
It is kind of funny in a curious way what lingers just beneath the foil. Having smoked menthols for the past 15 years or more, I think a vile pack of Newports was the perfect choice for that story lurking just beyond the filter.
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