I Still Taste the Smoke in Your Name

A cycle of poems «The Night Won’t Let Me Forget You»

I lit a match to forget your face…
But flames just brought you back again.
Your name still burns inside this space -
Not memory. Not dream. Regret. And then…

We met in summer, dry as dust,
You laughed like thunder, wild and loud.
One look - I knew I’d turn to rust,
But dove in fast beneath the cloud.

We drank too much, we drove too fast,
Burned every rule with reckless hands.
You kissed me hard and made it last -
Like love was something forged in sand.

The nights were fire, red and deep,
A fever no cold water cured.
But even embers start to sleep…
And all our sparks eventually blurred.

Now every time I say your name,
It stings like smoke behind my eyes.
Not poison. Not disease. Just flame
That never learned to compromise.

I still taste the smoke in your name,
Bitter sweetness laced with shame.
You were wildfire in my veins,
Heaven wrapped in gasoline.
I should’ve run. I should’ve fled -
Instead, I burned alive with you instead.

You left one night without a sound,
Just ashes on the kitchen floor.
No note. No call. Just scorched ground
Where love had knocked against the door.

I found your lighter by the sink,
Still warm, like guilt I couldn’t shed.
I tried to drown it - water, drink -
But fire lives inside my head.

Now strangers ask, "Are you okay?"
I smile and say, "I’m doing fine."
But truth is, I still catch your gray
In every shadow, every line.

I scrubbed the walls, I changed the locks,
But scent remains - burnt sugar, skin.
You’re not here… but you leave your marks
In every breath I try to win.

I still taste the smoke in your name,
Bitter sweetness laced with shame.
You were wildfire in my veins,
Heaven wrapped in gasoline.
I should’ve run. I should’ve fled -
Instead, I burned alive with you instead.

Maybe love isn’t meant to save,
Maybe it’s only meant to scar.
To teach the soul how bold and brave
It can be - right before it falls too far.

And maybe healing doesn’t mean
Forgetting how the fire felt.
But learning how to live between
The blisters, burns, and what I felt.

So if you're out there, free and clear,
Living soft in gentler skies…
Know I don’t hate you. Don’t fear.
I just miss the way we died.
Together. Fast.
Without disguise.

I keep your lighter on my shelf.
Don’t use it. Won’t let it ignite.
But sometimes, when I’m lost myself,
I hold it close… and feel the light.

Not warmth. Not hope. Just memory’s sting -
Of lips that lied, of hands that held.
I still taste the smoke in your name…
And part of me still wants to burn again.