Like A Cigarette


My Bed by Tracey Emin

Legs unstable, threatening to buckle

underneath my weight but I’m frozen.
I imagine your face, nose scrunched up,
disgusted I’ve lived among this clutter.
You’re not here though.
Not here to talk me out of one more drink.
I have turned to smoking again.
There is something about a cigarette
when you first light it, a smell
of promise surrounds you.
Afterward when it’s only the butt
put out among ashes, 
the stale aroma of broken promises
is overwhelming. 
I suppose our love was like a cigarette.
I still want you even though the end is bitter.
Believe I’ll curl back in my queen size bed 
to drink, smoke, put your photos away,
and let my mind rest. 

donetta sifford 3-26-2014 

Written for:  The Mag 212

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5 responses

  1. The aroma of broken promises…well done…

  2. Nicely done…thanks for sharing

  3. Good luck to a mind that can find rest amongst that clutter! Just take care to stub out the cigaret well before falling asleep… 🙂

  4. I like poems of longing and regret.

  5. In a word – brilliant.

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