Resuscitating A Haven

The room is dark,

I sit I contemplate

the purpose own I

do a future debate.


My ciggarette is lit,

the shade’s drawn

where I can’t see a

light of sun’s dawn.


The air smells stale,

the tobacco is rich

from combustion I

inhale it is so thick.


Escaping memory

is not so easy to do

when I reminisce a

smoke shaped you.


Whether I slumber

or am myself manic,

a ghost of yours it is

causing me a panic.


So I allow comfort

to seep in my lungs.

Seek I a peace from

words off a tounge.


The dark in me see

it gives ultimatums.

Be forever black or

resuscitate a haven.


So I lay my head it

down upon a pillow

after I let some sun

in the room to grow.