A little death inside your hands.
A lighter clicks, a fire starts.
The quickened beating of our hearts,
our clouds of smoke merge into one.
We smoked and laughed and kept on smoking,
it burnt so bright as months went on.
But then you saw it reach the end
and so you stopped. I kept on smoking.
I kept on smoking 'til the end,
gone past the point of enjoyment.
It gave me nothing but a bitter taste.
I realised and, too, stopped smoking.