Cigarette In My Hand
There ain’t nothing here but cigarettes and alcohol and useless conversation.
We are nothing but jokers looking for a joke to amuse ourselves.
I am nothing more than the smoke that fills my lungs,
the tar that’s left behind, my only companion.
She said she would stay awhile,
before she left for another guy,
leaving me by myself,
the cigarette in his hand.
I still feel her on my breath,
I still taste her on my tongue,
cigarette smoke in her hair, tar in my eye.
She still lingers in the air, my lungs still remember her,
cigarette still in my hand.
Ashes falling to the floor, I see her walking out the door,
cigarette in my hand.
And if I swore I’d forget her I’d be lying through my teeth.
She’ll always be the only one,
the cigarette in my hand.