TW: mentions of death, mentions of smoking, mentions of alcohol, mentions of underage drinking and smoking
(In the haze of smoke and lingering regret, Two souls are bound, their fates firmly set. Cigarettes smolder, and bottles lie scattered, In a sanctuary where nothing else mattered. Their tale unfolds in whispers and gloom, In a hidden place, where sorrows loom. Through swirling smoke and the scent of despair, They find solace in the bond they share.)
Smoke rises from the ashtray,
A cigarette still lit, lying in its stay.
The room fills with the scent of burnt tobacco,
Conjuring memories of this lingering fiasco.
A fiasco prolonged for far too long,
Leaving wounds impossibly strong.
As the smoke swirls in the room,
I pour us a glass of rum in the gloom.
Empty bottles and cigarette packs scattered around,
In a place where we know we can't be found.
While the ashtray grows more full,
I wonder how we could have been such fools.
Drowning our sorrows in smoke and drink,
As if fate had already been written in ink,
As if all hope was already lost,
And nothing could save us from our emotional frost.
I gaze at your pale face,
At the cigarette you hold between your lips with such grace,
And ask myself if this was meant to be,
If we are the result of a fate we couldn't flee.
I find no answer, yet I feel no fear,
With you by my side, our pact so dear.
I just wish this wasn't our final bend,
To be the news of two dead friends,
Found in the old treehouse down the street,
Our story ending in a way far from unique,
Lying cold on the wooden floor,
Next to an ashtray, overflowing evermore.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of the Unspoken
PoetryHere lies a collection of poems, scattered like leaves, shared in the hope that someone might find solace and know they are not alone in their turmoil. Beware, for these poems are not for the faint of heart; they arise from the darkest recesses of m...
