You gave me my first smoke.
Nervous at first,
Guiding me through each drag.

It became our thing,
just before we made love,
Turning our addiction into passion.

Then you left,
flicked away,
and I am left with the aftertaste of ash and smoke.

Now I drown in the haze all by myself.
Unprepared to share the moment,
Making it my solitude,
Trying to discover which my favourite is, all over again,
because I never asked you,
and wondering if it would ever feel the same again.

Mine are not perfectly rolled as yours,
because I never learnt it from you,
making that biggest mistake of assuming that
you will be next to me,
through each puff we take.