Smoke Break From a 5th Floor Balcony

With the last match lit, i bring it up to light my last smoke.
I wait to watch the flame slowly burn out, and i can’t help but relate.
Watching it seep into the darkness over the balcony, never to return to me,
i look towards the cigarette in hopes that it won’t leave, but the rising smoke says otherwise.
So i cling onto it for dear life.
The cold air surrounding me numbs the whole body, making it nearly impossible to hold the cig.
I look towards the sky, following the trail of smoke up, scolding it for trying to take what’s mine.
The frost from my breath is now indistinguishable from the smoke,
as if telling me that in the end, the good and bad are merely the same.
Not a sound can be heard at this time of night, except for the slow burning of my last possession.
Sigh.
The cherry gives off the only visible light, and the only source of heat. Both of which are weak.
Looks like the odds are against me.
I look up at the stars, imagining them as infinite lit cigarettes.
A infinite source of light, an infinite source of heat.
They’re all up there, looking down on my lonesome self laughing.
I guess the odds are against me.
As the cigarette comes to an end, i look for a place to respectfully place my last possession.
I’m a smoker, we’re unprepared.
So over the edge and into the darkness my cigarette goes to join the burnt out match.
But the cherry can still be seen from this 5th floor,
Wiping out any thoughts preceding the burial.
The flame lives on, and i can’t help but relate.