Where lungs burn and heart fails..
If he can burn his lungs
with a cigarette he knows will kill,
why can’t I burn my heart
for a love that never will?
He inhales the poison
just to feel a moment’s peace,
and I hold on to someone
who will never choose me.
Both of us are breaking,
both knowing how it ends,
he loses breath to his habit,
I lose myself to a friend.
He destroys his body slowly,
I destroy my hope the same—
and somewhere in the smoke and silence,
we both whisper our own names.
Maybe pain feels softer
when it’s something we choose,
maybe loving the wrong person
still feels better than losing you













