Social Smoker

Social smoker 

Between drags of my cigarette, I find my hands still shaking.

You try to pry apart my fingers and slide your own between them,

the needle pierces my skin in a way your love could not. 

But it is nice to have you close, 

you kiss my forehead an action so gentle that I can do nothing but fall apart in your hands.

You hold me, and I think I would like this to be our secret.