The Last Cigarette

By Nusrat Jahan

Love was like the last cigarette.

It made life a living dream.

I was on a high, savouring every moment.

My house became a bubble, full of smog.

The cigarette turned small as it burned.

It burned my love and my sentiments.

I realised I was in a one-sided relationship while dusting the ash.

I came across various cigarettes, but amongst all,  you were my favourite - my double switch.

Days and nights disappeared into thin air like smoke.

All I was left with were cigarette remnants, and reminiscent of the past.

I told myself this was my last cigarette.

So should I leave the cigarette burning midway or finish it?

Will this be my last cigarette or the beginning of a new one?

By Nusrat Jahan