I did not smoke a pack a day because
I was addicted to nicotine.
I was trying to poison the memory of you.
I wanted it to be as black as the lungs on the pack.
I did not want for it to have a chance to survive.
I wanted it to be the ash I just throw in the garbage.
Knowing us and what we had, the ashes would catch fire
and burn my house down the same way that love burned us.