shawn mendes imagines

burning cigarette

I watched as the cigarette, that could potentially kill him, lit up every time he breathed in the toxic air into his body. His index finger and middle finger would grab it, and he'd let out a long puff mixed with a tired sigh.

From the bed was where I was watching him from. Shawn was standing on the balcony staring out at the busy city below him that was soon going to quiet, maybe a couple cars passing by, but it'd be peaceful and everyone would be in their houses, happy or sad.

Unfortunately, we were the sad. The ones who were once happy, but feelings left and now it felt like it was a chore to love each other. Nothing real.

The burning cigarette in between his plump lips reminded me of our love. At first it was sweet, felt nice and would sting. Kind of a drunk feeling but it felt good. Eventually, it'd burn and the love for it would go away. Your throat feeling dry and immune to the feeling.

In the end you're just dust and ash left behind. Used for someone going through a hard time, thrown to the ground and stepped on, no one cared about you anymore, you can't provide anything else for them.

You're left on the ground. The once burning cigarette now small and weak.
You feel nothing.

i'm going through serious heartbreak. and no one reads this book but i keep writing. help me.
-luna xo