braided chains

we become something
we are not
searching for forever
in braided chains
of cigarette smoke

clouds left behind
smoldering ash

your memory yellows
like an old photograph
nicotine helps remember

you taste like shit

but in this life
i will take anything familiar

image source

like the pain
in my chest
where your footprints
are the only
trace left

i stumble through
the fog
at every cheap bar
i can find
but there is no sign
of you
just the same
lingering stench
of your cancerous lies

poetry by: @thiscrazylife
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in ink...we stain