smoking poem (imissyou)

if i could light you up,
i would.
i'd inhale you,
and hold you in my lungs
until my throat began to burn
and then i'd let your sweet smoke
flow out of my mouth,
thick and a perfect, toxic white.
my smoking sweater would smell of you,
and i'd never wash it.
i'd tuck it under my pillow for safe-keeping
and when i was done with you,
i'd place what little of you
i haven't greedily consumed
in my ashtray,
a forever home for my forever boy,
until my groping fingers reach for you again,
only to find that i've over-used you,
and all that's left is ash.

now i want a cigarette.
and i miss you.