Lighting Up

Well hello, old friend! I see you peeping
There among the rummaged handbag debris
Of a fellow addicts life. One moment
Till a practised hand caresses your length,
Inflaming a red tipped longing for
Pleasures passed over, dearly remembered.
I hungrily observe your smoking trail
As you casually travel upward -
A rendezvous of ready puckered mouth
And white, chalk- sticked nicotine conveyor .
Enveloped in your death miasma, I
Can smell you, taste you. Lingering too long
I take you once again into my throat;
Welcoming your ashen rasp, your filthy
Tar debauched treacle. Your guilty pleasure.