A Half Smoked Cigarette

Image by the author

A taste of coffee,
a steel of caress,
and a half smoked cigarette.
Recollection of last nigh
left an undefined feeling
that something wasn’t right.

Half dried flowers in black pots,
and a welcome sign blended as one.
A seat by the window
smudged with steam,
rain altering the colours of the city.

Like spiralling cigarette smoke
thoughts were appearing
and disappearing in my head
making me uneasy and afraid.

A white light and papered walls,
the smell of sandalwood
and a melody of a waltz.
He stood before me and bowed,
took my hand and smiled.

In his eyes I could almost sense
the hues of the Danube
as we waltzed the night away.

Cherry wine from a crystal glass,
a touch of his lips cold as ice.
A shiver of fear and lust
as I fell in his arms.

A taste of water
from a mountain spring,
memories of things
that couldn’t have been.
Black hair and glowing eyes,
white fangs and blood that dried.

As the rain began to fade
so did the images in my head.
Whatever I drank last night
wasn’t cherry wine.

A seat by the window
smudged with steam,
an empty coffee pot
and a half-smoked cigarette.

~ Iva