Righteous kill

He lit up to clear his head. Another week had passed since that day but he kept up the tradition to hold onto the things that no longer exist. Each drag brought him closer to the illusion of the fog that covered up the starry sky, of the mist that would hit his face, of her through the smoke that burnt his throat. The smell killed the perfume on her skin, elevated him to the reclusive tower of the feeble before plummeting to the dark depths of the stony ground. His eyes wandered to spot the moon through the last rings of whatever smoke that remained, the heat made his heart warm to feel as he had once felt before.

It turned him into the cold blooded warrior he once was before he had met her, and hardened him up like the cold wax of the candle burning inside. “Never melt” he remembered, as the flame almost reached the end of what seemed like an eternal collection of empty peaceful moments. The silence of the past few minutes were his own, something no one could steal from him. Nothing anyone could tell him mattered, even the “You disgust me” he had heard those years ago. This was his territory, this was his country. These were his times. Times where he burnt away the righteous part of his soul and killed those pandering thoughts of appeasement. He made no eye contact with the few who passed his way, he just stared into the nothingness that ensued.

These were after all, his solitude smokes.