I hate being in the same room
As you and the others smoke
Those cheap cherry cigarillos you picked up
At midnight from the corner 7-11.
I can always feel the smoke seeping into my lungs,
So I don’t quite understand
Why I love to kiss you
Right after your morning smoke.
Your tongue tastes exactly as the room tasted,
The smoke clears my system
As you enter it.
I’m reminded of those roaring 20’s
Gangster movies, cigars always in hand.
For a second you embody that,
The black and white movies that cloud my mind
Turn to color
With the touch of your lips.
Artificial cherry became my favorite flavor,
Second only to you.