I lit another cigarette just to feel close to you, entreating worn nostalgia to come back again and let me breath in the old reek and curl of mingled smoke on your sheets, seething through the eleventh hour like an ephemeral harbinger of tainted ecstasy.
Remember it was you who first guided my fingers down the bed of dry amber, taught me to tuck the paper tight and even, to breathe in the flame so it catches for good and flick it from my fingernail into a mass ashen grave. Remember endless revels in the sensuous glove of midnight, a clandestine adoration I cannot diminish or rescind. Remember too, the weight and folly of words without a backbone, intimated gilded promises left inconsummate and smothered at the bottom of the ashtray.
And all at once the rack and madness of dismantled equanimity, kneeling on the brick with ash and spit in my hair as your name breaks between my lips, behind and within the veil of rain and fume as the last note of hallelujah burns out between my fingers-