A Funny Lament

I'm glad

I know the taste of a cigarette in the rain

fluttering tobacco ash

that hot, burning ember

racing towards

tight lips

the way it

mixes the cold
and the loneliness
in empty space

the way it 
comforts your soul

until its gone

the last breath out

as you open

the door

again

I'm glad I know it

but maybe more so

that I don't know it

anymore