Cigarretes

I keep on thinking about the last time I lit up a cigarette with you,  
The way I carefully held it between my lips as if it was a secret I was waiting to tell,  
The way it looked between my hands that have lost innocence a long time ago,  
It's taste that clung on my tongue for the rest of that day,  
The feeling of inhaling the smoke and having it burn down my throat and watching the smoke go as I exhaled in the air.  
 
And here I am lighting one up without you.  
I am not supposed to do it.  
I swore I wouldn't get addicted  
But the memories have become additive.  
 
I keep on thinking about the last time I got to see your tall dark frame in the evening light,  
The way you squinted the sun away on your face,  
The cigarette between your fingers burning away at your side,  
It's smoke dancing in the air with mine,  
The feeling of your nicotine coated lips against my lips  
And the smell of smoke that lingered on your breathe as you spoke sweet bitter words to me.