Slow Burning Papers (revised and applied)

Love is like cigarettes.
The moon taught me that.

I lost my cigarettes looking up at that fat gloating eye,
downward glaring like so much ash.
The funny thing about cigarettes,
is that since the late 90's they burn slowly.
Fire safety laws.
And if you let them, whilst you stare blankly at an smogged out sky
 (with no stars and a bloated yellow wraith looming over you),
they go out.

Quietly, giving no notice of their silent death.
It's not until that jarring taste of cold stale air
that you realize what's happened.
And even then they don't taste the same,
 even if re-lit.

A Cigarette dies before you know it’s sick.
The moon taught me that.