I’m a Cigarette

I`m a cigarette
Left for someone else to smoke.
In the cold, dark night of the lonesome,
I`m smoldering on the window ledge
Of an old widower who lost his better half
Too early, too soon,
Right in his 30s when he was still figuring out
The real point in human existence
And why we differ at all,
Yet not able to grasp his own nature
Or even dissolve a single day to a single word.
In the better days,
His wife would emphasize him,
Just as he brought her to a better existence,
Though he often forgot the simple in life
And brought up complexity
To his otherwise simple mind.
And his wife`s scent was why he had a nose,
And her body was why he had eyes,
And her self was why he had a soul.
Still, he often spent his time beyond,
Focusing on the everything and nothing,
Messing up his head with parallaxes
And his heart with the deepest trenches.
And I’m still looking for another smoker,
Though I know I needed no better smoker than mine.

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