Pisaries Creator

They refer to me as a former smoker,
the one who has a loving and hating relationship,
not so much with cigarettes but with the smoke.

Knowing the nicotine blackens lungs,
fills your veins with ongoing smoke,
and will one day take hours from your life,
is not enough for a real smoker.

They don't care about the future, 
only until they envision bleeding lungs,
and not being able to ignore the double vision,
another way of thought enters.

Finding any possible reason to excuse this weakness, 
is the only thing that matters on this terrible night,
no one can know the difficulties you face.

The smoke from other cigarettes pollutes,
it lingers ten feet away outside,
wafts into the hallway to find the perfect home,
and never escaping the stink.

I want to remember myself as a former smoker,
not a start again nicotine addict,
because finding oxygen is hard enough.

Gone are the days of tapping and lighting,
feeling a sense of calmness blowing smoke,
in all directions like my life scattered,
and I don't need that feeling.