Thick cloud
what you see is a broken cigarette dropped and finished
forgotten and empty
torn and burnt
what you don’t see is the body who inhabited it, who inhaled its doom
the body who became it
the body who hurts
and is broken too
forgotten and empty
the body whose
torn lips
and burnt fingertips
consumed the nicotine filled filter
and breathed in filling their
hopeful ageless lungs
with a thick cloud of
“just one more”
“after this pack”
I will quit.
k.l.g