When the sky is gray and grumbling,
When the wind is cold and cruel,
When I am small and sad,
it is then that I push the screen out of the window and climb to the roof.
It is then that I pull my sweater over my knees.
It is then that I pull out a lonely cigarette and a lighter.
I'll light it and flinch at the flame.
Every. Time.
I'll put the cigarette to my lips.
I'll inhale a large chance of acquiring cancer,
I'll exhale the sadness.
And I'll watch my neighbors drive off around the corner.
And when the rain begins to fall, I'll come back inside and sit on the floor.
Listening.
Thinking.
Breathing.
Dying, with every thought I push down my throat.
When my stomach is growling and I think of caving, I lick my lips and hold on to the lingering taste of smoke. I don't move, I just stare out the window.