An old aunt’s visit and melodrama

An old aunt’s visit
coincides with my demise
I prefer being burned alive
to another jibe
but even in the casket
in the final basket
I am thinking
of you, and your gift,
the one
you placed, on the
nightstand in my room
half a bottle
of Scotch, and a
dirty washcloth
both smelling like you
indifferent to my heart
just like you.
But this isn’t
about how you left
but why you stayed
for so long
in the throes
of all that cigarette smoke
let’s just say
I was the habit
you needed to give up on.

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