Love & Cigaretes by Boygene Borice - HTML preview

*Job*

I tore my robe of pride,

sat in ashes of remembrance,

and asked the heavens,

"Why love, if it ends?"

No answer came,

only the whistling of the wind

through the hollow places she left behind. Yet somehow, in the ache,

I worshiped still,

for love had once touched me,

and that, even in pain,

was sacred.