My last cigarette, or a Bohemian Goodbye
I can't say that it's not often I spend my last night in places with a cigarette. Despite my insistence on quitting several years ago, it still seems appropriate to bid adieu to lovers and landmarks with a quiet cigarette.
So here I sit, on a dear friend's porch, singing along to sad songs and lighting up for the last time in Columbia. Again.
The heat burns and the smoke scars lungs and skin alike, but at the moment I can only conjure an amicable feeling to the little cancer stick. If I had wings, I'm sure they would've been there for a trip to the moon and back. Hacking and all.
So it's with heavy heart and lungs that I type away in the dark, crickets and crooners conveying more than my little message on the Internet. They won't miss me because their little bug lives can't conceive of my presence or of my sadness, and I won't miss them because they'll be dead before I think of them next.
But I suppose I'm more than sad. A few weeks ago, all I could contemplate was either death or vacating my apartment. So, at the sly insistence of mes atres, I packed a small bag of depression and boarded a plane for a warmer climate.
And now I leave again, temporarily empty of tears and cigarettes with a warmed heart and hands. I'll think of you, remember your advice, and listen for crickets in DC.
I'm okay,
Rae
So here I sit, on a dear friend's porch, singing along to sad songs and lighting up for the last time in Columbia. Again.
The heat burns and the smoke scars lungs and skin alike, but at the moment I can only conjure an amicable feeling to the little cancer stick. If I had wings, I'm sure they would've been there for a trip to the moon and back. Hacking and all.
So it's with heavy heart and lungs that I type away in the dark, crickets and crooners conveying more than my little message on the Internet. They won't miss me because their little bug lives can't conceive of my presence or of my sadness, and I won't miss them because they'll be dead before I think of them next.
But I suppose I'm more than sad. A few weeks ago, all I could contemplate was either death or vacating my apartment. So, at the sly insistence of mes atres, I packed a small bag of depression and boarded a plane for a warmer climate.
And now I leave again, temporarily empty of tears and cigarettes with a warmed heart and hands. I'll think of you, remember your advice, and listen for crickets in DC.
I'm okay,
Rae