Sigarette

I used to hate the smell of cigarettes

Leathery, acrid

The way it was woven into the threads of your jacket

Suffocating, shriveling

Your lungs were too weak

Disappointing

You didn’t quit

Maybe if you had you would have been stronger

Maybe if you had you would have held on

Maybe if you had you wouldn’t have faded

Maybe if you had I would remember your jokes about stars and pubs

Maybe I could have said I was sorry

Maybe I was the one who was weak

Maybe

My chest feels heavy

Breathing labored

All of the air squeezed out

By a phantom hand, a mietitore

And I wonder if it was never about the cigarettes

Or the smell

Perdonami

I’m sorry I didn’t understand you

I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate you

I’m sorry I’ve forgotten

I’m sorry I used to hate the smell of cigarettes