Nicotine Maiden

It can be like this...

Heavy hands upon my lungs,
Slipping floorboards ‘neath my feet,
Endless smoking, ash and choking,
A taste so bitter yet so sweet.

A teenage marriage to a cancerous witch,
Through the engagement she was my bitch,
Now she stabs me and I love her more,
An addict, addicted to a fiery whore,

Whatever we have,
The upper hand is hers,
She keeps me in line,
With smoke not words.

In silence she calls me,
I’ll never know how,
But I have to leave,
She’s calling me now.