Marlboro Reds.

The taste of non menthol
burns my throat as
I take a long drag of
my cigarette.

Though our old memories have gone
up in smoke, we are left drawing
new ones in the water.
Stick in hand, you twirl
clockwise, producing a beautiful
piece of art.

I am left mesmerized as your
lips lightly brush my cheek.
I remember once praying
for your hands to return to me
and they finally do, clasped
in my own.

Our fingers smell of tobacco
and I know there is no other way
I'd rather things be.

My lungs expand with each inhale,
nicotine coursing through my veins.
The only lie I told was
that I lied, as if I could ever truly
raise the white flag and
abandon you.

Your head finds my chest
as you flick your cigarette,
surrendering it to the wind.
Love, or something ignites in my veins
as my arms wrap around your waist.
My eyes grace the water and I find
your artwork has faded away, seeing
only our reflection.

The burn in my throat has disappeared
and been replaced with the
beating of my heart.

"I can hear your heart beat."
"It only beats for you.