That Virginia, She’s Slick not Slim


Nair I say I am a monster,
though my breed is quite intolerable
and at times maniacal but
should this smoke haze lift
to reveal a sudden
horror before your eyes,
a widespread panic
might overwhelm your heart
and torment your mind
causing you to hastily flee
from my already out-stretched arms.

May I intercede?
Remind you of
the swelling terror within me?
While we sleep together but alone
I confess I fear you want me near
to merely fill the empty space-
that ache within that crushes
your lungs with each inhalation
of those cancerous fillers (filters).
Yes, they offer what
my touch cannot comfort-
they feed you from the inside.
Now directly, I must ascertain:
am I just for show
like those clouds of smoke
above your head?

You alone are not a victim.
Our status warns us both
of the route we could take,
and most likely will.
Our reservations have booked us
for a momentary, no,
momentous lapse in judgment-
a distance apart so great
a bond with only heat and hurt
we keep.

I only hope it shall not be so temporary;
that I am no mere addiction, no filler,
no filter for which your emotions
can be strained through,
and then once reduced to ash
put out like a bad habit.

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