Menthol Memories

Menthol Memories

I never smoked till
I was with you.
Every time you threw your
vicious Fire
at me
I caught it
on the tip of a
cigarette.
I told myself
the smoke was scorching
my lungs,
not anger.
And I swore to myself
it was only the smoke
that made my eyes cloudy.

Eventually,
I noticed that when
I’d given up
my silent begging for your gaze
the smeared stray ash
I’d absent-mindedly brushed at
would catch your eye.
Imagine!
A little grey streak
accomplished
what I could not!
My nicotine-numbed nerves
made me nod and smile.

Finally,
One Day
I burned myself on the orange ember
and you didn’t notice
because you were watching
The Sun set
from the other side of the
Mountain.
I inhaled the mint monoxide and
closed my eyes tight.
I saw the cool smoky fingers
curling around my brain
choking and strangling
all that I longed to say.
My lashes parted
and I watched the stream of smoke
that seeped from my lips
instead of words.

I studied the tobacco
that had been
my Morphine,
and I watched as my fingers
smothered
my Menthol Muzzle
Against the rocks.
Then
I walked over to you
and placed the
Crushed Corpse
in your open palm.
And my lips
now free from all restraints
Simply
smiled