The cigarette was burning…as bright as the passion that we share, the passion of love and life. The burning desire to live is alive and well. The flame of love and life is still burning brightly. This initial spark of passion lit the cigarette and its stimulus was enticing. A high came from this cigarette being lit as you inhale the memories, the time together and the passion of life. A slow deep burn that lasts for seemingly forever but it turns out that it was finite. Over the years that flame slowly dies out until there is nothing left, no passion, no love. Not only the passion but that spark of life or life itself is gone. The high has faded leaving others wanting more but there is nothing left. Nothing left of the drug, the endorphins, the spice of life, nothing but a bud of what it once was, only a shell that can be discarded along with the ashes or remains of that flame, that life. The remains lie in an ashtray full of buds and ashes of the flameless, the passionless, the dead. Some cigarettes last as long as a fuse, some as long as a candle, some have to be relit, others never really burned at all. But all end at some point. The high fades, the flame fades, life fades. Although this is the fate of a cigarette its high must have reached the sky, and its glow must have burned slow before it had to go.
