Alluring smoky spirits tickling every bud,
appearing youthful and naïve,
but instead were tobacco demons
entering my mouth in attempt to get me addicted to his nicotine breath.

Romantic sins of lust and love wrapped with paper thin emotions
when he hugged me, nuzzling ashes with skin
when he held me, fooling me into submission
when he touched me, setting my heart on fire
only to let me die, stepped on, and abandoned.

I loved it.

Cigarette scented tresses loose and free
tangling with my virginal hair
and tainting it with rebellious aromas
because he never wanted me to be pure;
he wanted me damaged.

Isn’t that right, my dear?

Didn’t you always, my human fag, love to manipulate me into your world?
Didn’t you always just want me to be the victim of addiction?

Lustful urges to take a drag from his lungs,
greedy needs to keep his breath in my own,
but damn it did I hate the fact that he always knew
that I loved
to suck
his…
tongue.

How I wish to take the tobacco taste off his lips onto my own and rub his
hair into my face to inhale the wrongs…

Didn’t you always, my dear, want me addicted?

Didn’t you always?

Too bad.