This isn't about cigarettes...

I lay awake with a cigarette 
waiting to hear the sound 
of an ember falling on my skin
a reminder that pain is truth

I blow smoke rings 
until a perfect one escapes my lips 
a hole in pictures of my   memories 

for long the tiny glow of a cigarette 
has been the only light in dark rooms
mad voices competing like desperate orphans
for my undivided recognition 

what I yearn for-
is the spirals of smoke 
to mark time we lay together 
the angry-red glow to decorate your smile 
that deep slow drag of contentment 
after I've fucked you hard into the night. 

© Lost