Non-Smoker

I have to stop reading poetry. The muses of poets take long drags on Cigarettes Before puffing out more Show stopping lines. I am trying to quit. . It has been four days since I Pushed my last yellowed filter into the ground Let it stand next to the others like A proudly rotten smile. . At the weekend I spent every penny I own and more Pushing boot prints into mud Shoulder blades swaying like dorsal fins to music I didn’t know Dark pupils spilling into white noise Lungs filling With smoke and emptying with words like Frankly Dear, I don’t give a damn. . I liked me back there All muse and smirks and Dry laughs But tobacco is expensive And nobody listens to a non-smoker.