Larry Smith Poet Sonnet

Addiction

My cigarettes and stale air mix into
a heavy, yet familiar smell.  A scent
that starves my soul but feeds the ballyhoo
that I enjoy this. Then there's days I've spent
in fellowship with coffee; a dark friend
whose warm but bitter taste comforts my nerves.
The fear and familiarity outspend
the price an unrepentant life deserves.

I smoke in defiance of who I am; 
exhaling streams of smoke that silhouette
the fact I act like I don't give a damn.
But STOP! 
	       It's time to smoke a cigarette
and quietly deny I've given up
this being my last smoke or my last cup.

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L'Nass Shango June 27, 2009 at 9:23 PM We do not keep what we give up ... lighting up is not the addiction ... it is keeping the thing, but what would we do with our broken wing? Long life in prayers, my friend, and your victory shall be your reward.