Poetry Maybe #36: The Memory of Cigarettes

grayscale photography of cigarette butts in ashtray

The Memory of Cigarettes

Photo by Helen Lee on Pexels.com

The Memory of Cigarettes

You were the King
And I was the sting
To no one
But the Mad Hatter

Trap house
With a lawless Spouse
All things tangible
And toxic

Science says 
We’re murdering ourselves

Our bodies say it’s

Our brains say 
This is some visionary shit 

Cross your heart
And hold the lights
So tight

When we magnify
The mirror
The shape of 
Our future is
haunting and

There is Longing
To Belong
but this 
quicksand life 
And shabby drowning

Longing to
 How to
clean up this 
Murky parade of 

Cigarettes, pale spoons 
and give-and-take needles

After the jam session
briefly thankful for

With old love and lighters

Poetry Maybe

“Just a small town girl – living in a lonely world.” Concert tickets are practically essential. Musicals are the key to life. I like movies, music,books, and corny jokes.

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