Confessional monologue

The first puff couldn’t calm me because though I held that bewitched cigarette in between my fingers, my lungs couldn’t inhale appropriately n my mouth fagged n it was a disappointment n a feeling of incompleteness at that time
Just like love, my smoke was incomplete as well.
My first smoke was very much like my first love. It didn’t happen. It left me yearning for it
But then, I am capable of hiding the pain of unfulfilled desires.


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