"Cigarette Ash"
A cigarette rests between my fingers,
Fragile, burning slow, like the moments I linger.
We are both fleeting in the night’s quiet breath,
Living on the edge of smoke and death.
Each time I inhale, I taste a dream,
A beautiful lie wrapped in nicotine.
The warmth, the spark, the rush to my soul,
Like holding onto someone who made me whole.
Every exhale, I watch it fade,
The smoke dances, the memories cascade.
Letting go of what once was mine,
Drifting away, thin as time.
We are the same, the cigarette and I,
Burning away under the same dark sky.
Every flame, a story told,
Every ash, a love grown cold.
When I'm empty, I flick what's left,
The final piece of a promise kept.
And as it falls, I see myself there,
Losing another piece I was afraid to spare.
Because this is my life, a beautiful spark,
And a slow burn that fades in the dark.
Every puff I take, I breathe you in,
And every exhale, I let you go again.
- Gyan
