What's in your cigarette?

A dear dear friend tagged me in a note on FB:

In Asbury Park, NJ

by Edwin Romond

It is the end
of my first day
without a cigarette
and I've come here
to breathe
the ocean air; feel
my lungs fill with life
instead of smoke and,
at Asbury Park,
swear to myself
I will never again
inhale what subtracts
even one future chance
to walk this beach,
see these waves,
and feel my heart beat
to the music
of this boardwalk
carousel turning
like the earth
where tonight
I live.

{You can also read it here}

Its a lovely poem, isn't it? I love it when my friends tag me to beautiful posts.

But that was not all. After the poem, she begs the question...

What is your cigarette? What is the smoke that fills your life?

For me, it had ever been doubt.

I smoked doubt
wrapped in sheaves
of self worth.

But not anymore.
Not anymore...

The sheaves
have since unfolded
and the ashes, scattered
to the winds.