Realizations
Is it wrong that I like to watch you smoke?
I know the health implications and complications, we both do. We’re not stupid.
But there’s something undeniably sexy about your smoldering habits.
The flick of your lighter at the end of your smoke brings your eyes to mine; burning.
The cherry twist at the end of your cigarette, red and hot.
The way smoke slowly curls around the contours of your face, throwing bone structure into shadowed relief.
The way your fingers tickle the edges of your fix, twisting and turning.
The way your lips part, beautifully, and the ensuing smoke that swirls lazily into the air.
After every exhale you lick your lips, lean against the wall, arms folded.
All while staring at me, with a dark look; need only half hidden by smoke.
Hand still holding that fucking cigarette.
Inhale. Eyes flutter shut. Shoulders slump.
Exhale. Lick. Throw that curse to the ground. Put your fingers, mouth on me.
Stub it out, let me be your fix.
By Sierra Paquette-Struger
Freeverse Press 