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Your Smoke

by Liz


Last night the rain was whispering on your cheap, leaking roof with the unstable tiles, and you and your cigarette were whispering against my neck. I could feel your hot breath and the burning smoke and I wanted to move away from you on the couch. It was getting stuffy in there, but you hated it when I opened windows at night. I don't know why; I loved looking out at the darkness and feeling it playing on my face. It felt so good after the heat of your words, breath, skin.

After a while my throat started tickling with all the peppery smoke I was breathing in. I didn't want to cough, because that would make you ask me questions, and I didn't want to say it was your smoke that was making me cough. God knows what you would say to that.

My eyes started to water and I wasn't sure if I should move away from you or just sit there in my uncomfortable agony. Finally, I didn't think I could stand it any longer. My throat was stratching like hell and my eyes were close to flooding. I stood up and said I had to use the bathroom. It was cool among the soft blue tiles that your parents had chosen. I breathed in the fresh air like I had never breathed before. Usually I could put up with clouds and clouds of the densest cigarette smoke, but it was different with you. You wanted to breathe the pollution into my neck, as if you were tempting me to start again, when I hadn't smoked for months.

When I first kissed you, and your mouth was overloaded with nicotine, I thought it tasted beautiful, all mixed up with the hot scents of your breath and teeth, and I sucked it in like it was chocolate cake. But as the time rolled by, I started to get sick of your smoke, and I would try to avoid you when I knew you'd been smoking, and kiss you so utterly when I knew you hadn't. That's why everyone shook our heads at us pashing in the middle of school, because you weren't allowed to smoke there. You were always pretty good about not breaking the rules, because you hated to think of being caged up in a classroom on detention. When we stayed after school together a couple of times, with Mrs Robinson, I could see you itching at the desk next to me, fidgeting and gritting your teeth. You weren't meant to be locked up inside, but somehow that never stopped you from keeping me in one room, in one place, while you just held onto me.

Last night, I came back from the bathroom and told you I wanted to go outside for a breath of the cool night air, but you yanked my arm and made me fall onto the couch next to you. I dug my nails into the flesh of my arm, but you didn't notice. I was hoping you wouldn't try to kiss me, but I knew that was hoping against hope. Whenever your parents were out, you had to make the most of the empty house. That always involved me.

You put your mouth on mine and whispered inside my lips that you loved me. I could feel your warm tongue moving as you conveyed this, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, despite the fact that my face was flushed from all the heat. You brushed a stray piece of hair from my face, and I felt confused. I wanted to answer you, tell you that I loved you as well, but I wasn't sure if I would be lying. All those other times I'd said it, I knew I was being truthful, but time just slipped past me sometimes, and left my emotions all jumbled. So I just put my hand under your shirt, and felt you suck in your breath because my fingers were freezing cold.

written: Monday 13th September 2004, 4:34pm


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Mon Aug 16, 2010 2:05 am
TPak says...



I love this story! I have choked on cigarette smoke before because I used to have family that smoked wildly, but this did describe what it's like being choked by smoke, but also in this story it sounds like there is also an abusive boyfriend.




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Wed Aug 04, 2010 6:45 pm
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PandaRawr wrote a review...



What I came to romantic short stories looking for was not this. But it did, in a twisted way, make me think. Not all romances are gushy or sentered around love at all, as this wasn't. It could use a few tweeks here and there, but thoes things are not worth my fingers doing the extra work. It was a good story, and I enjoyed it.

Until next time, Stay In Love With Love.




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Sat Mar 19, 2005 6:09 pm
Shriek wrote a review...



I liked this. The imagery you used was great--I felt almost as if I was in the same room, suffocating from the smoke like the speaker. I thought it was clever how the narrator spoke to the smoker instead of about him. Well done. :)




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Sat Mar 19, 2005 4:14 am
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Chanson wrote a review...



you know i guess i was confused by this. i didn't get a feel for who the He was or for who the narrator was. but i liked it, mainly because i have been there. smoking seems so sexy at first and somewhere along the line........it's not. i also liked the ending. but some of it just made me do the whole "sacnning eyes over words quickly". poetic, yes, but it didn't hold my attention. you need more depth. or something.

whateer, here i am accusing you of rambling and that is what i do best.




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Wed Mar 16, 2005 10:57 pm
Mattie wrote a review...



There were quite a bit of akward sentences but that didn't make me not like it because I really did like it. Very poetic just as ohhewwo had said. I think there's a lot of hidden meaning in your writing and I think that's what makes everyone like it so much becuase it touches a part of them, you know? Anyways, keep up the good work Liz!




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Tue Mar 15, 2005 3:18 am
ohhewwo says...



Yeah I really liked. It was kind of poetic, you know? I could really see the "clouds of smoke." Well done.




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Mon Jan 24, 2005 10:43 pm
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nickelpickle says...



LOVE IT!!! I really don't know about the title and I agree with what Nate said. I demand more!! LOL




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Tue Jan 11, 2005 8:10 pm
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Firestarter wrote a review...



Ooh, very good. I don't have much to suggest off the top of my head. I think there were a few awkward sentences around, but I've forgotten them, though if you read this story out to yourself, it would be easy to tell which ones.

Anyhoo, I enjoyed it :)




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Sat Dec 18, 2004 4:28 am
Nate wrote a review...



I thought this was done really well. You do a good job bringing the characters to life, and you have great imagery. To top it off, the tone in this story is excellent.

There were a few awkward sounding parts here and there, such as " I didn't want to cough, because that would make you ask me questions, and I didn't want to say it was your smoke that was making me cough. God knows what you would say to that." That just doesn't sound right.

Overall, nice job and a good read.





A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.
— W.H. Auden