The smoke from your cigarette Twirled around my body, Wrapped itself tightly, like morning fog Around high mountain tops. It caressed my bitter skin And even until this day, It still resides in the cracks. The haunting scent bleeding from it Filled my nose, stung my eyes, And I just thought, If the way you held your cigarette that night Could make me fall, faster than its ashes Dripping to the wooden floors, Then I am in trouble, I am in trouble.
