it's not supposed to be like this
gesturing to me where it aches
where no love can take it away
where the smell of nicotine
can caress you
with a pale hand that lingers
even if you try to slap it away
it asks you to take hold of it once more
because it takes away
the hate and harshful thoughts
the drug is your quiet lover
that can stay beside you
with its tendrils snaking you up and down calming you slowly
i envy-
i'm just the patient lover
no,
a mistress
one that cannot even ease the pain
