Cigarette Butt

Remember the first time we had cigarettes together?

That was my first cigarette ever.

You may have got that from my uninterrupted cough that followed the first drag.

I almost fainted with cloud puff clotting my brain.

The next thing I know, I was in your arms, resting against your shoulders.

You were laughing so hard when I opened my eyes.

I remember you drove me home in my car despite being a novice.

My brain half expected to explode, half expected to die in the accident

. But neither happened.

In minutes, I was home in my bed. I

don't remember how you sneaked me inside

But I recall you kissing my forehead and waving me goodbye.

The second time was a little better.

I coughed like an asthmatic but didn't pass out.

It took me a whole month to try it again.

I would have given up forever if it wasn't for you.

But I knew I had to take a drag once you affixed the cigarette butt between my fingers.

It got better from there.

Before I realized, I was an addict.

Not just to cigarettes, but cigarettes with you.

But you were addicted just to cigarettes.

So much so to treat me as one.

Hurting me with the fumes you term as 'lit'.

Consuming me with every drag.

And once my warmth was too much to handle, you threw me away.

Wait. You didn't just walk away.

You stomped me, crushed me under your shoes

Like every cigarette butt which has served its purpose.