Smoke

Ode to a Cigarette

You are a guilty pleasure
I crave you
when I am hungry
for love, or comfort
when I want to be held,
caressed.

I take your filter in
like the tiniest of penises.
My mouth engulfs you
I suck it all in, all down
into the depths of me...

But I’m sorry to say,
you are a poor substitute.