cold sweats, cigarettes

You wake in the night, in a cold sweat, the beads resting on your brow. Rattling chains haunt dreamed dreams while possibilities suffocate the rest. The regrets you had never had have the best of you now; she lays next to you, her soft breaths fill your ears, her warmth fills the bed, her scent fills the air, yet nothing fills your heart. Edgeless shadows creep along the wall, sometimes dancing, sometimes deathly still. The crickets chirp and the breeze blows and the night sleeps. Sleep, she evades you, yet you try to chase her, because you've always liked the chase. Your hollow heart mimics heartbeats, your eyes open wide. In desperation you settle for a cigarette, anything but this. The flicker of fire makes your eyes flinch, the click of the lighter dents the thick silence. You inhale, the smoke touches your teeth, your tongue, your throat, your lungs. You taste nothing, release, and watch the smoke vanish into black. Still nothing. Tonight you can't taste the cigarette on your lips, or tobacco on your tongue, even the sweat against her skin. You puff and billow through the empty night, in an empty home, left with the flavour of regret to fill your empty heart.