Old Habits

Old Habits become new, 

just as new habits become forgotten.

Smoking makes its sweet return 

as I remember a saying once heard:

“Lungs full of smoke spew only that, 

but lungs filled with air spew music!”

And so I cough in my sleeve, 

knowing full well that I’ll be breathing clouds, 

for years to come.

The world turns as the light twinkles between my fingertips.

Not a light of hope, 

but a fire leaking dark ash into my head.

I’m a moth to a flame, 

and the spark burns bright enough to drag me back in.

The same light which radiates warmth always burns when you get too close.

For the safety of others, 

for the ones I hold dear,

never let them close.