I am secondhand smoke.
I have been breathed out by so many mouthes
that the stale smell of me clings to your clothes.
I am in your new girlfriend’s hair when she comes
home from the bar.
I am floating outside your window when you return
to our old apartment.
I am silently taking years off your life,
although this is a choice you never made.
I am blackening your lungs
one kiss at a time.