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.
The feeling of having cigarette is nicely expressed, But the nicotine, alchahol gets closer to the people who smoke or drink. Nice poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very much like the analogy of the ciggarette being caressed and loved, it not being aware of the smoker needing it more as it ends, very nice poem Renee, i like your style in this one very much. well deserved vote.