I never thought I would like the smell of cigarettes.
I always romanticized memories to smell like those flowery perfumes
or those snuggly sweaters
.
I rode the train into the city the other day
as I rose from my seat to hop off at my stop, the cold wind brushed my cheek,
carrying the scent of a faint, sweet, musky cigarette
I turned my head around, somehow hoping that you found your way into my city,
miles and miles away from where you lived
Yet, all I found was a group of random people,
rushing to get off the stop and make their way to their dreaded work
.
I still don’t like the smell of cigarettes
they smell bitter and remind me of how damn fine you looked smoking them
they remind me how you left my heart after you stopped talking to me that day
they contrast your soft smile, and how warm your hands felt, perfectly gripping mine
they remind me of how your lips tasted,
and memories flashback to how your held me that summer night