Cigarettes

I thought they were dark clouds

Thick black clouds

They protected him.

With help from the night.

They collaborated to mask him

Gave him the veil to steal

To steal my stuff.

The clouds carried the scent

Of boxes of cigarettes

They danced around his face

A dance that praised him and mocked him

And sometimes letting his eyes pierce through.

Drip.

Beads of sweat dropped

On my face, mocking me

As the clouds

The scented dark clouds

Chocked me.

I’m sure he thinks of me

I like to think that I haunt him

That my eyes dance around his mind

That his sweat…that his sweat

Remembers its bed, my face.

I hope I haunt him

Every time he lights a cigarette.