the aftermath of sneaking cigarettes

you could have heard from a class away

the stormlike whirlwind of fog
spinning above our heads until given the chance to
evaporate

how long before i evaporate?

to depend my only spark of light on that
will it end?
are his words empty as the way my hollow heart pumps,
continuously beating without a purposeful totality?

the few good things i have are
alike rats hidden beneath the subways
the subways my mom goes on

how long until the person who loves me
takes everything i love away?