His breakfast is a cigarette,
smoke clouding and circling him,
fading away like his dreams
and staining his worn leather jacket.
As the nicotine grows smaller
and his regrets grow larger,
he gazes at the rising sun,
searching for a glimmer of hope.
The smoke leaves his mouth
like the ghosts of words he never said.
He watches in silence
as she slams the car door,
nothing but a ring of smoke
to bid her goodbye.
With a flick of his finger,
ashes fall to the ground,
wishing for better times
or a chance to try again.
He searches the clouds of smoke
for hope, happiness, health, help.
After one last puff
passes through his lips,
he fades back to reality
and the day that awaits.
He breathes in the fog once more
of lost days and missed chances,
time passed and love wasted,
like oxygen in his lungs.
Yet, with cloudy eyes, he stomps out the flame
of his smoky daydreams.
YOU ARE READING
11:11
PoetryA collection of poetry about life through young eyes. Because sometimes you just have to cross your fingers, close your eyes, and make a wish. --- "11:11" is Megan McMahon's first completed poetry collection containing 36 pieces. Take a trip into he...
