It is with you that the day begins,
not with splashing the cold water on my face,
or blowing out smoke rings from my parched lips devoid of your kisses.
A sideway glance of your face dripping with boredom has me excited enough,
or must I say:
has me biting my nails,
hunting for another cigarette;
finds me forgetful of the 20-pack resting in my pocket —
oh, I am too used to buying many a individual cigarettes in your honour.
Oh what magic have you cast upon me,
even in all your unwillingness?
you are pursued in my thoughts,
until my memory fades away in the sublime sleep,
and then I find you knocking at my door in my dreams —
oh, many a nights have you done so before.
What am I to do with a wary visitor such as you?
Art by Gabriel de Cool