A Love Letter to My First Time—(With you)
—I'm already on my third cigarette.
I could've sworn that I stopped smoking months ago; that I'd finally beaten the temptation of burnt taste-buds and fried brain-cells. The addiction that nearly killed me so long before has slowly found its way seeping in the crevices of my mind, the memories—repressed, so much so, that I've forgotten you in the dusty bookshelves of shit that I have stored—waiting eagerly to be examined upon by prying, deceiving eyes. Maybe it's because I wanted to taste it again. That eagerly tasteless feeling of being fulfilled that lead me to doing it in the first place. Or... maybe I just wanted you.
Don't think I'd ever forget.
When I walked into the room, there you were. Leaned back in a parlor chair, embers of Malboro ashes lining the floor beneath your feet. Even though it was dark, I do remember the faint silhouette that caught my eye as I peered through the door. You waited patiently for me to enter. The smell of your cologne caressed my nose, more than the fumes of your lit tobacco. When I closed the door, and you looked at me, mist spreading around my face—oh, I just knew—I knew what would happen. And I wanted it to. More than you'll ever know. Sometimes, I even think of the song that would play in my head as you stood up, fanfare erupting in my very being. My body was impatient. I wanted you to hurry and put that thing out. And let me in.
And when you did—believe me, when you did... my body was just like that cigarette.
You put your lips around me, and sucked the very essence from my fragile being. My skin was wet with your kiss. I would hiss in response, as you sucked me dry; the fire burning, raging within. Oh, I wished that you could taste me more. That I could become your needless addiction. To where every day, every evening, every night; you'd need me. You wouldn't live without me. That misty smoke was my every breath, leaving me, taking the life from me. You'd flick me, making sure the excess was never wasted. You savored me. I'd lay there while you take me on a wild journey of ecstasy. I was rocked beyond this world. I'd discovered paradise in your arms.
And when you were done, there would be nothing left. It went on and on, like this and like that. Hard and rough. Soft and sensual. You may think I'm insulting you but I'm not. I want you to know that... every time I light one,
I think of you.