Do you ever find yourself staring emptily at a cigarette as it burns itself down. In an almost possessed like trance as your eyes glaze over and the lit end becomes an almost magic glow of light.
It's become a habit I find myself falling into, when I'm scared or hurt, a defence mechanism, like crying. Only... Safer, easier.
Focus on the light. Let yourself wash away, for a few moments of clarity.
And reawaken, renewed.
And hell, you've even got a cigarette ready and waiting when you snap outa' the trance.
Your move, tears.
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