Undead

    I lighted my last stick of cigarette the moment I went out of the door. I sat down the gutter of the empty street, watching as the drizzle fall through the streetlight’s luminance. The chill that the wind brings makes me shiver; so cold, unemotional. Then the thought of you came into my mind. 

    Nicotine clarity. I realized that the drizzle turned into raindrops. I puffed as the droplets of rain touch my face. But I feel nothing. I guess I died the moment I realized that I am the painting of a man that you don’t want to be with. Every inch of me depicts something that isn’t your preference. I wondered how i missed it. I am drunk by the idea of us being together. But like alcohol, it was a false promise and now that I finally reached sobriety, there comes the realization. Then later, comes pain.

    I huffed and puffed until the fire reached the filter. The heat burned to my lips and tongue and throat. But still, I felt nothing.

    I’m dead.

    But I will keep on breathing.

    I will keep on smoking.

    Until I could feel my heart beating again.

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