Obsessed

One man's desire . . .

He watches her from a distance
With a hard, focused stare
That follows her every move.
She is young, elegant and refined
But that is not important
If she gives him what he wants.
He shakes with excitement
As she reaches into her bag
And pulls out a cigarette.
He bites his lip to keep quiet
As she slides the long white stick
Between her blood-red lips.
Her fingers, tipped with purple nails
Hold a flame to the tobacco edge
And he sighs with delight.
As the flames singe the fibres
They burn, an amber brightness
And he is ready now;
Ready to breathe in time with her,
His heart racing alongside her
As they share his forbidden pleasure.

His pulse quickens…
He wants it…
He really wants it…
He needs it…
He really does need it…
He needs it now…
But then it is over
All over.

She pulls the tar-filled object
From her lips one last time
Before throwing it to the ground.
She places her shoe upon it
And stamps down, hard. He runs
To her as she turns and walks away.
There is no way to get what he wants.;
Upset, he turns back
Pulling on his nicotine patch in frustration.