My first cigarette was shared between beautiful smiles,
The indirect kiss as smoke slid hot through the filter,
Escaping my throat in faint blue tinted with sunlight.
I’d cough, she’d laugh, and then kiss me so deeply,
The taste of that smoke was like heady myrrh,
Lingering even today, many years since I have quit the habit,
God, I yearn for a moment’s weakness,
To strike a match, to breathe,
To remember, her kiss.
Discarded Recollections 