My Cigarette And I Poem by Renee Wangwe

I wouldn't know how a single puff feels,
When he draws it from his lips.
Half the time,
I envy the damn cigarette.

I want to be that close,
That entwined,
That intimate,
With the only boy my eyes see.

That boy who's so kind,
Half the time,
I have to remind myself,
He does like me...
Just not like that.

How gently he holds it,
Carefully caresses it,
The cigarette doesn't even know,
How he needs it more as it ends.

I wouldn't mind a love like that,
One that doesn't fade; instead burns out
Even for a short while,
It's smoke acting as remnants,
Of a love that once was.

If only I smoked cigarettes.