She stood by the parapet wall.
Dark clouds descended and cold air ascended.
Chill breeze brushed her hair away from her face.
She gracefully placed the Gold Flake Kings in her mouth and tried to light up a match.
The wind around her blew out the little fire.
Neither had she been a customary inhaler of this morbid smoke.
Nor was this her initial choice.
Her mind floated weightlessly into the past.
Propelled by a flurry of memories.
Willing to reach stagnation only when the outline of his image intensified.
The picture of him inhaling and exhaling toxic grey air.
Her dearest memory of him was the deep sense of melting perfection she experienced when her lips met his for the first time.
Soft and intense, so infused with nicotine.
Choicelessly she swayed from aversion to appreciating its flawlessness.
She no longer wanted to taint her lips with any other type of kiss.
Now all she had was his brand.
She had turned from passive to active.
The taste of nicotine in her mouth.
The smell of smoke in the air around her was her only streak of connection with him.
It lead her to believe they still belonged like a song in the wind.
Even if it was for one fleeting, unrealistic moment.
Dodging the misty air, she struck the match again and cupped her palms to light her obsession rolled in brown and white paper.
As her lungs got a shot of the polluted air, a whimpered cough escaped from them.
Hopelessly they looked at their neighbor, her heart and inquired,
“Why do you do this to us? Isn’t it easier to simply let go?”
Her heart whispered,
“Oh, how could you two possibly fathom. To love fairly and incessantly is all you know. Left lung and right lung, you were born together.
Fell in love.
And became soulmates.
What do you know about loss?
The permanent loss of the only heart I effortlessly connected with.”
Her lungs drowned in another gust loaded with tobacco.
Inching towards their doom.
Her heart reached elation and looked at them.
“Lucky bastards, even in their death, they go hand.”