Some day's I really miss smoking.
I miss the beauty of the unpredictable patterns the smoke creates, the crackle and burn of the tobacco. Its scent has become a living reminder of moments celebrated, moments lost, and the growing pains of my youth.
I miss the first inhale and exhale, the weight of the cigarette between my fingers and the caress of the filter against my lips. It was a secret romance, nothing short of a wild passionate love affair, until it wasn't.
In private, and on occasion I wish I could go back. -tM