I Came Across A Cigarette

I Came Across A Cigarette

Looking around one last time,
making sure everything was in its place
just finishing cleaning up the mess from Friday night,
both in the kitchen and in my head,
I came across a cigarette.

There it was, right there on the shelf under the chalkboard.
Right underneath the picture you drew; the one I can't erase.
I took a step back and took in the whole scene.
It was like viewing art that makes you feel as if you could go mad just by looking at it.
And I started to laugh
and I laughed until I cried
and I cried until I screamed
and I screamed until I started laughing again.

It was as if the cigarette had fallen from the lips of that hassle in your head.
I picked it up and looked at it, to confirm what I already knew would be true, and sure enough, it was one of yours.
It wasn't left there intentionally, it was just one of those weird things that happens.

I'm not sure which addiction made me light that cigarette; but I smoked it, one last fix I suppose.
It tasted so sweet I got teary eyed again;
but then I started coughing halfway through it,
being reminded of what smoking does to me.
I smoked the whole thing though
and coughed until I cried
and cried until I screamed
and screamed until I started laughing again.

All is in order, everything is in its place
and ready for a fresh start on Monday morning,
in both the house and in my head,
and all that lingers is the smell of smoke.