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The Non-Smoker

By: Denishea Young

I see you.

With smoke billowing around your head

Streaming from your lips.

Floating in the air.

Whipped away by the wind.

Dispersed to one knows where

A look of content, of albatross

Flying away


Bringing that small white stick,

That metal modern tube,

That old wooden pipe

To your lips.

Smiling as you take a protracted pull


I see you.

I smell you.

As you walk by from being outside

Rain, snow, shine

Out you go a quick jerky stride

In you come with a smooth loose pace.


What happened to all that stress?

What happened to all that angst?

How can you smile?

Relax, Relate, Release.

It doesn’t work for me


I see you.

I smell you.

I hear you.

As you sigh in relief

Click, the lighter held to the tip.

Pulling in a breath 

Tossing it out, whoosh.

Steady as the ocean waves

Rising, falling

Sucking in, blowing out

I see you.

I smell you.

I hear you.

I taste you.

In the air you linger

Alluring and repelling

I love your fruity taste

So inviting and sweet

As you tantalize my senses.

I want to gulp you down.


I hate your pungent odor

That fouls and soils the air

I hold my breath as you hang there.

I run quickly away

Least you try to stay.

A bitter memory

Causing a shimmy and a shudder

Dissent of the digestive

A grimace and a swig to send you away.


I see you.

I smell you.

I hear you.

I taste you.

I feel you.

A flick of your fingers

A grounding of your shoe

The stress you once had

Has now bid adieu

Dear God, how I envy you.

© Denishea Young
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