The Little White You Drag

My heart is fire and your hands are the lighter
You can cast it aside or keeping me as a flicker
The way you lit your cigs is classic
And though I am a part of it,
You still got sole power to control every bit

It was not that thin like any other kind
Coming right off the clean white pack,
It was tiny and thick; compact
With scant of paper left on the end side

You’re letting my fire kiss it hastily
Only to have more time
For your lips to devour it leisurely,
Slowly, gently, it burns and burns
And it keeps on burning
Seven minutes straight before you harshly put it out
Much less time than what others prefer to drag

But the smell, oh the smell is haunting
To the very core, it is intoxicating
Tingle in the throat; crisp to my nose
And, oh, how every air that tastes like that
Injects pieces of you into my blood at maximum dose

All of it is white with a hint of aureate
All of it is you; taking a poison like it was your last breathe
Between you, your cigarettes, and your classic smoking habit,
the resemblance is almost uncanny
But your shade surely doesn’t have white, not even any
It is way tanner instead, way too dreamy
It is as dark as your words every time I wanted to lit mine;
as dark as your eyes warning me not to
and ended up turns me blind