Cigarettes, Sex, and Other Vices

By Nix Carlson

March 8^th 

I think I might be an alcoholic.

You confessed with fingers wrapped around 

A glass of Bacardi.

You broke your ribs, one by one,

To lay bare your burnt and bloody heart.

My fingers lightly traced the scars on your back – 

I still haven’t asked for their history.

You snapped shut, went outside to smoke.

When you returned, you kissed me

And I kissed you back

As if sustained by the nicotine on your breath. 

The next morning, I moved my liquor from the counter to the cupboard. 

March 25^th 

When we almost won trivia

In your old hometown bar,

I asked how attached I was allowed to get.

You cocked your head and laughed

Doesn’t matter much, you’ll get as close as you will.

My fingers brushed the flame of your lighter,

Letting it burn me before you could. 

After, you pulled me into the backseat

And ordered me to look at you.

For the first time in my life, 

I kept my eyes wide open as fire consumed me.

April 19^th 

Naked on your couch at three in the morning

You told me of the thoughts that swirled like thick smoke 

Through your head.

And of that retired vet from the London pubs.

And of your dad 

Slowly dimming the gas lights of your childhood memories.

You’re crazy sometimes.

A regrettable remark that fell like ash from my lips.

For the first time that night I didn’t join 

To watch clouds billow from your mouth.

When you recovered, 

You turned on the tv and recommended a horror,

But we talked and fucked until the sky turned orange

Instead. 

May 1^st 

A sunny day, a white bandshell,

A careful six inches of uncertainty between us, 

And my hands itching to close the distance.

My mistakes are big. I can’t be the man you want me to be.

My clumsy tongue tripped over the words to explain that

I felt safe with the battered man before me.

I felt wanted under his gaze.

I felt braver next to him. 

I don’t need you to be anything other than who you already are. 

You exhaled smoke.

I let it coat my lungs and reached for the transient truth between us.

June 12^th 

Don’t you hear it?

I laughed and shook my head

As you tapped the beat on your steering wheel,

Trying to help me hear the one note a hair behind the rest.

The one moment of intentional humanity on Hozier’s track. 

I take my rum with cola,

You take yours with nicotine and coke.

I absently wondered if I would prove too sweet for you.

A month later I finally felt it, 

Just a tad off,

As I tapped it out on my own steering wheel, bound for you. 

June 20^th 

You burst through my door

And my room filled with an incandescent light

Radiating from your chest, your smile, your eyes. 

you seem different today. In a good way. I can’t describe it.

You busied yourself with crepes suzette,

Glowing,

And I sat on my couch admiring 

How beautiful you looked 

In my kitchen light.

When you left, my sheets smelled like 

Cigarettes, sweat, and oranges.

August 21^st 

I wish I’d known what cigarettes tasted like 

Before you kissed me. 

It’s been thirty days since you told me that you fell again.

Six hundred Marlboros since you shut me out. 

You told me not to pick up your habits 

But I picked up a lighter and a pack of reds

Just to keep tasting you.

I am overflowing with love for you in the shape of 

      Grief. 

By Nix Carlson