by Robert Gryfft
I throw away my third cigarette of the day, half finished. The craving claws at me as I walk back inside.
I hesitate, dissatisfaction and self-control asserting themselves like loud, annoying animals.
I exhale. What do I want?
Then realization hits me. It's not the nicotine I'm desperate for.
I miss smoking with you.
2 comments:
Addictions of love and pleasure! Excellent finish to this buzz.
I think in some ways this is more Gryfft-doing-Collins than your parody.
Post a Comment