I smoked a cigarette and thought of you.
The embers were orange, bright against the darkness of the early morning. The nicotine was bitter and sweet, kind of just like you, and it made my lungs contort as I inhaled- it hurt, it hurt a lot, but I did it anyway. Kind of just like you.

I rolled the windows down, letting the wind smack my face, pulling my hair, disabling my vision.
The sun bled over the horizon like a large, dark bloodstain. The pink and purple hues weaved over the trees, touched the hood of my car, and penetrated right into my sight. There was no one on the road.

I didn’t know what time it was. But I knew it was time for another cigarette.

You said I was pretty. You thought I was smart. You said you were different.

I guess I believed you, through those hollow hazel eyes and that dirty brown hair. I never liked to admit when you were right, but you were this time. You were different.

I let the smoke blow out my nostrils, stinging my eyes, fizzing and evaporating into the air. Kind of like you. I flicked the excess ash off the end, into the dirt beneath my feet. I watched it fall to the ground, kind of like my heart, waiting for your foot to step over it, smother it into the earth.

You never really did have a way with words.

When the whiskey hits your tongue, I wonder if you will remember me. I wonder if my face ever crosses your mind. After you take a shot, when your face collides with the cold tile floor, and all you have left is the spare change in your pocket, will you think of me?

The cigarette continued to burn until it was too short to hang between my lips. It was short enough for the embers to crawl up my fingers, seep into my blood, and like a potent venom, shoot for the weakest organ in my entire body: my heart. Kind of just like you.
I threw the cigarette out the window. I didn’t even bother to stub it out, just so I know it won’t catch onto something weak and blaze a fire. Kind of just like you.

I put my lighter away and tossed the carton of cigarettes into my glove box, hidden from sight. I knew they were still there, just like the pain still throbbed in my head. And as I felt my eyes get glossy, I knew water had bubbled over my lids, and I knew that this was real, and you weren’t a ghost. I let the tears fall down my cheek. That was my white flag, I was surrendering. You won.

I pulled over to the side of the road. I closed my eyes. I felt the last tear hang desperately from the end of my chin, and then it took a tragic fall into my lap.
I kept my eyes closed as I opened the glove box, the lighter was in my lap.
In one hand I held the lighter, in the other those famous pack of white sticks.

I put one between my lips. I inhaled, letting the flame take me in.

No one said it was going to be easy.

I lit another cigarette and thought of you.