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.