This Cigarette Is Looking Better Than You Ever Did

i am writing you this with the intentions of setting it on fire. not because i dont want you to read it or have it in your possession or anything. its for you. thats why im writing it. but the intention to burn it to a lightening crisp brings much more satisfaction then having my words mouthed by your lips, and this ciagrette is looking much more beautiful then you ever did. im making sweet love, to this bottle of wine. and i am writing all the junk that is tattoo'd on my mind, because the sooner i have discarded all of this stuff, there will be much more room for a lot of punch drunk love fun. the smoke from this cigarette has your name highlighted on my page, isolating you like some deadbeat magician losing his hair. ive thrown the cups out the window, they remind me of you. all them, even the measuring cup. and i am drinking from the bottle, smoking for miles, the window is open and i might hear you calling. the phone is off the hook and my pen is just about broke, writing all this sentimental advertisement wont get me a good bloke. but thats not entirely what im after, just another smoke. someone with a smoking jacket, and who wont educated me on the harms of cancer. this cigarette is looking a lot better then you ever did. and im writing all this stuff, so i can burn it to a crisp, and move on with the glittery ashes of my life, no more settling, no more shit.