Untilted

I'm smoking
a stolen cigarette
that I stole
from your bedside table
right before I walked out the door;
because let's face it-
you still aren't here.
I'm dealing with conflicting emotions-
turn the lock,
pull the door closed-
you still aren't here.
I want to see you-
want to try-
want to tell you
the pain that's somewhere
in my stomach.
but the nicotine buzz sets in
now I'm left
only with the pain in my chest
because I realize now-
you're not coming back-
let's face it-
you still aren't here.