H.R.Powell

She Was Cigarette Smoke

And she was cigarette smoke, ugly and rank, clouding your vision and ruining the furniture. Maybe after years of breathing her in you were used to the haze. The cough was a daily nuisance, not a concern, or a symptom. She was tar and toxins, leeching her awful words into your veins to poison you slowly. You don’t breathe in the breeze, or a salty gust from the sea, the only air you could tolerate was her. She told you the cool night air would give you a cold, as her cancer grew in your jaw. Kissing her dead grey lips brought the nicotine, but it killed you.

  • Author: H.R. Powell (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 14th, 2021 13:05
  • Comment from author about the poem: This particular poem wasn't about a personal story of mine, as much as it was inspired by someone's story on Reddit. Toxic relationships are so difficult to escape even when you know how truly bad someone may be, almost like an addiction.
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views:
  • Users favorite of this poem: aDarkerMind, Bragee, brianna jean zeiger.

Comments2

  • Bragee

    Wow!
    It’s almost like a calm rage kind of vibe.
    I love it...we’ve all been burned by a cigarette.
    Peace and blessings

    • H.R.Powell

      I've never heard of someone describe the tone I use as "calm rage", but I find it fitting! Thank you

    • brianna jean zeiger

      amazing. i felt the anger and pain deeply.

      • H.R.Powell

        Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it :>



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