Unfiltered Love

Addiction hidden in rings of smoke,

Burning ashes fall to the ground.

I have read the warning labels,

Yet, they mean nothing to me,

The glow, the need, the habit-

The phone rings,

And I answer-

Just one more,

Just one more. 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

My mom used to smoke like a chimney...gave it up one Lent and never went back.
I gave up marriage...said just one more twice.
Nice metaphor here...powerful.
j.

[Amanda Reynolds]

Thank you, I admire your connection to my poem and the connection that is has to any pattern

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

One of the most impactful images of my youth in the 70s was waking up at 530 am and seeing my grandmother smoking a cigarette at the kitchen table. It was automatic that she would always habitually do that and stare out at the still dark morning. The stories her eyes would tell, that her lips would forever remain silent. Smoking was her addiction but it was also her faith. Thank you for sharing your poem. CLE

[Amanda Reynolds]

thank you for your poetic comment on my poem, I really love your your thoughts ands words, espiacially, "It was automatic that she would always habitually do that and stare out at the still dark morning" beautiful, and I can imagine this scene, thank you again-

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

You are very welcome though I should be thanking you for the years of service in the educational field. I'm sure the art you present to all here reflects the type of education you provide to young hopeful minds. They are lucky to be taught by a talented writer as yourself. Thank you and wishing you the best. CLE