“4000+ chemicals, 43 of which are carcinogenic.” (From quitsmokingsupport.com)
I like you in the way I like my cigarettes – always onhand. A constant. I am always craving more. Always wanting just one more hit – one more kiss.
And yet you are infinitely better for me than these carcinogen sticks. And I don’t just mean good for my body. I mean good for my heart, good for my soul. Yet you both make me feel breathless.
A pack of cigarettes holds 20 sticks manufactured to be exactly the same as the next.
The chemicals, the genes, the blood that runs through your veins, the neurotransmitters in your brain – they’re priceless, each and every part that makes you who you are.
You are a singularity. A rarity. And if you have been “manufactured”, “designed” by a god I do not believe in, I would like to believe the spaces in my hand were meant to be filled by your fingers.
Cigarettes are meant to be consumed in quick, easy breaks of 5-10 minutes.
Consume. You contain multitudes, endless enough that each hour with you seems like just 5-10 minutes, infinite enough to feel like I could never catch up.
My fingers are used to holding a stick every so often.
But now all I could think about holding is you.