At first when I held you in my hand today,
I did it to see how you can burn me,
How you can make me go numb and stop me from running back to him,
You my cigarette,
Now I will let you touch my skin more than him,
But how can I,
How can I even allow this to anyone or anything!
You know last time when we talked he mentioned that we needed some distance,
That we must maintain it,
But how is this distance measured?
I was told if I ran far away,
Put enough mountains, oceans and seas between us,
Between he and me,
Then it might help,
Help the string tied up with our hearts to break apart,
I still feel the strings,
Well why I am talking about this to you,
You seem to be damaged as well,
You keep falling, just like my emotions.
You keep fading, just like his love.
Sitting here with you in my hand, Exhaling what I am,
I stare at every human I can see,
Trying to find love in them,
Yet trying to convince myself how I don’t need human-love anymore,
Probably that is the reason I am allowing you to touch my skin,
You know I still remember how in my childhood I was so stubborn,
To give away my favorite blanket for a wash,
And I remember how mommy kept telling me that one day,
One dark day I will have to sleep without it,
I wish she would have told this for humans as well.
My cigarette! May be for this world you are toxic,
But to me you seem like a cure,
So I keep on inhaling you,
Telling myself how love out of all the emotions have betrayed us the most,
But no matter how hard I try,
I still miss his love,
His favorite song,
I still miss him.
But you my cigarette, you help me a lot
These days I find my lips blue,
Bluer than the sky,
Bluer than the ocean,
Bluer than the ink on my paper,
These days I find myself blue,
So much blue that I might turn out to be a smurf one day,
I am not sad, or may be, but this is a different kind of sadness.
The one that comes out as tears and collects on your eyelash and smudge your kohl but dare not fallout.
The one where you want to scream so hard that you may as well damage your vocal chords but nothing comes out.
The one where you have a constant excuse of being tired without unreasonable explanations.
The one that forces you to laugh out loud.
I am not sad, or may be.
But you my cigarette you help me a lot.