I started smoking right when I lost you.
I'm not sure why I picked it up.
But I know why I'd continue,
It was a pain that I could kill
I couldn't numb my heartache,
Missing you.
But when that first nicotine headache came,
All I needed was a few puffs to silence the beating in my brain.
It was comforting, quieting, to know not every pain was uncurable.
That I had some control.
Gave me hope that someday maybe, I could not be missing you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem