The Ashes of burnout spark, p.3

I crave you like a starved man, and the strangest things remind me of you. A cigarette, light, or just ashes.

the way your fingers wrapped around it like it was part of you. I never stopped you from smoking, never told you to quit. In fact, I loved watching you—loved the way it made you feel real, like I was seeing the man you were, not just the one I wished you’d be.

I guess I loved you, even in the smallest of things, even in the smoke you exhaled. I keep wanting to light a cigarette, watch the flame catch, feel the heat, and let it burn, like the pain I can’t escape. I want to watch it vanish—watch the smoke twist away into nothing,

as if the act of burning could erase the ache. I carry from you.