Hesitations and the best of intentions.
Like a lamb to the slaughter, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. He was the cigarette and when everything was over and done with he had been thrown to the sidewalk. With the slight lipstick of a kiss, he was disregarded and snubbed into a mound of sand. Yet he is nowhere closer to being home. Further away but better off with moments of regret preferred over ambiguity, he stumbles on. On into a new found and untraveled path, he drags his feet with hesitations yet holding on to the best of intentions. Alone and smoking his last cigarette, recognition of a new found design stumbles its way on to his path. Though feelings of disregard and distain may prevail over those of hopefulness and happiness, the taste of a narcissistic self-deprecating disposition seems to pair better with the last drop of wine. A stagnant sigh of smoke rises to the silent heavens wishing only to be acknowledged and to be forgotten.