Cigarettes And Cages

You sit with a pack of Marlboro. I have been looking at you for a while now. I like how your wine red lips hold it, pressing softly yet hard enough to make a mark. Your legs are crossed one over another revealing the cellulite, of your thighs.

You suck the cigarette, slowly and deeply. The air is tense now. You fuel my anguish now. It’s been seconds before you release all. You smoke out – the pain of heartbreaks, the crippling desires, the stressful targets, the abuses and everything drowning you. You smoke it again, again and again. I want you to stop. I scream, I shout. You are deaf, deaf to all.

You drop the half-burnt Marlboro. It’s not pleasing you today. I smile for a while. You look at me smirking. It agitates you. You laugh at my presence and try to slap me hard. A glass shatters. I have broken but still, like you. Through cracks, I can see you dancing. You stumble a bit, I cannot catch you.

You pick up the cigarette and smoke again. You are whiffing the air now. You breathe your toxins for survival. Oh girl, what have you got into! I see you and I scream louder. I try to break the glass and reach you. I see a burn on my hand. It doesn’t hurt me, what about you? A tear rolls down, you drown in love for death.