I quit you...
You were my cigarette.
Your breath created tar in my lungs
and painted my nails the color of the moon.
I bought a nicotine patch, my own assassin,
trained to kill my pathetic addiction.
But at night, I couldn’t sleep because I could
smell you, and your smoke only ever made
me crave you.
It’s been over a year and I’ve stopped
coughing up bits of you.
I paint my nails coral and blue and the
nicotine patch is long since gone from
the trash beside my bed. I open the
windows in my room and no longer
And if I ever see you again,
I pray I no longer crave you.