Smoker in the Dark

[Dark Muse]

Smoker in the Dark


The smoke lingered
above his head
hovering in sensual
sinuous movements,
as it curls, like the ends
of his lips when he smiles
in that devil may care
way which makes my body
come alive with tingling
nerve endings.

My gaze is transfixed
and I cannot tear my eyes
away, while craving
those lips for myself,
but they appear so distant,
unaccountable, as he reclines
cat-like poised for the strike,
with hunters eyes
waiting to devour me.

Yet stretching the moment
out in a slow torturous
languidness, he inhales
with confidence, as his hands
strong, easy, move like an
artists, weaving through the air.

To the core of my being
I yearn for the memory
of those hands, fingers
intended to produce music
which once stroked my keys
into tune, but now denied
kept absently away.

Let me become lost
within the smoke rings
which circle him in a
devil's halo, frightened
while still entranced
by his isolated presence
which burns hot and cold
with his shifting moods
leaving me in his wake
of passion.

[Jerrybaldy]

Let me become lost
within the smoke rings
which circle him in a
devil's halo,

you really got going at this point at which I crossed over from a reader to a commenter. Smoking is definitely poetic and I will smoke again when I retire. Good job Muse.

[hillwalker]

You actually give smoking kudos and credibility - but unlike JB I'm still not about to light up.

H

[Dark Muse]

Hahaha thank you I think.....this poem was not really intended to be any sort of propaganda for smoking. I myself do not smoke, but at the same time it was an acknowledgement that within artistic expression smoking does have a certain aesthetic appeal. And while I agree it is better not to smoke, it would be dishonest not to admit that there is something sensual in the act of doing so.