Smoke

This is a poem about my struggles with temptations to smoke

Smoke

Do I have it under control?
Or does it have me under its control?
The box looks peaceful, an escape.
The red fumming end burns the fringes of temptation.
My mouth goes dry, my heart beat hastens
I want it, I need it
I hold tight, clench my fists, grind my teeth
And chase the feeling away
Calm again
But the feeling is not gone, just hiding
Waiting, torturing...


K.L.Jones