Love & Cigaretes by Borice B - HTML preview

The Last Cigarette

I lit one last cigarette,

not in mourning,

but in memory.

In the smoke,

I saw every kiss,

every tear,

every road that broke me

and every sky that healed me.

I exhaled,

watching it drift,

not as sorrow,

but as thanks.

For the love that was,

for the heart that grew,

for the light that now shines

through every crack.

I walk away,

no longer burning,

but blazing.