Nicotine

I met you at the Red Room

My friends called you Nicotine.

I watched your smoke rings dance around me

Left the smell on my shirt for weeks.

I kissed you between drags

Always with one foot in the grave.

And the other wrapped around you

In case the cemetery caved.

You sprayed my heart with your graffiti

And I liked the thought of being tagged.

A big red “X” across my chest

Marking the spot that you’d once had.

And I still feel you in the churches

We visit up and down the states.

From every pew and pedestal,

I hear the preachers scream your name.

And your picture is painted within the lines

Of every creviced, wrinkled face.

The paint is splattered as you liked it

And the artist signed no name.

But you are just a ghost now

All twenty years gone up in smoke

And when I smell your nicotine on someone else,

I start to choke.

 

Reviews

[.]

I thought this was so very cute. I enjoyed this write alot. Simply amazing!

[Antonio Valentino]

Funny, we used to call cigs, chokes.
Very poignant write here Stephanie.

I think we all know people with this debilitating habit.
Very nice.

Antonio

[V. Lucien Maier]

good, great poem on the subject.

[kaycee]

amazing!