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Poetry

Cigarette Smoke and Ashes

I can still taste that first breath
I can still smell that first smell,
When, choking, I first met death.

How I reveled in the taste of death;
How sweet smoke hid the fires of hell.
I can still taste that first breath.

She shared with me that black breath;
She was there, breathing as well
When, together, we first met death.

I remember when she first left death
When she first turned aside her head to my lapel
I can still taste that first breath.

She refused my kiss, refused my breath
Moved as if to say farewell
Then, crying, I first met death.

Moved, I finally drew a breath,
Torn between ashes and marriage knell,
I can still taste that first breath
When, finally, I conquered death.

Smoke rising from a lit cigarette resting in a white ashtray beside a spent match, against a dark background
Photograph by Tomasz Sienicki, 2005. Cigarette in white ashtray, via Wikimedia Commons. CC BY 2.5. Original photograph, reproduced without alteration.