his lips are addicted to the taste of nicotine and coffee,

a penchant for bitterness

he embraces –

the tendrils of smoke

every 27 minutes

[and yes,

I’ve counted each fleeting minute]

his gaze finds me at the 50th minute

it’s absurd to envy a cigarette’s allure, I know

yet, why can’t he crave the taste of me?

am I too sweet for his appetite?

how ironic,

for within me brews a bitterness

a flavor I’ve come to embrace

I yearn for his lips to ache for me,

every 27 minutes

to be the desire that

lingers and

refuses to

wane

could my veins be filled with nicotine’s allure

to bind him in an unbreakable spell

oh, to be that cigarette

cradled by his lips,

a touch as delicate as

morning dew

if only I could enthrall him

as his nicotine lover does,

seductive,

intoxicating,

an addiction he can’t escape

yet,

his nicotine lover and I share a common thread

he consumes us both until we’re

whispers of existence

he discards us,

sometimes squishing our embers beneath his feet

an attempt to smother the

flames of our fervor

but we emerge,

resilient,

unscathed, and

whole,

ready for him to

indulge

in our essence

once more

• Experiences
• Mental Health & Vulnerability
• Poems
• Short Stories
• Why You Should Care

• The Animal with My Face
• Alberta’s Book Ban: A Dystopian Reality
• Decoding “Sinners:” A Vampire Film with Cultural Depth
• John Hates Lemons
• Checkpoint Poetics: What a Soviet Poet Taught Me About Moral Resistance

1. 

   I completely agree with you! This degree has introduced me to a world of history and culture. Thank you for…

2. 

   I hear your conundrum; I too suffer from a ‘title’ that doesn’t pay the mortgage…Beowulf, Dante’s Inferno, Canterbury Tales are…

3. 

   Welcome

4. 

   Thank you!

5. 

   Good stuff.

Anxious Thoughts

Navigating life’s uncertainties, one word at a time