Passive Smoker.

The metallic tang of smoke washes over me; and I start coughing uncontrollably

you take a deep drag and exhale

I voice my protests, yet you sit there with a cigarette aloft in your hand

ignoring me; as always...

letting the fumes billow around me; as always...

You've turned me into a passive smoker

A being, polluted by your toxic fumes

in desperate need of some cleansing.

It's always been this way

You rage and burn on and on

while I just stand there

stoically absorbing the after effects

that coat my insides with black soot.

I've even given up protesting

'coz you still won't put down that cigarette

and spray some air freshener.

A thick greasy layer of soot builds up in my lungs

which threatens to kill me someday.

It's not me;

but you, who the smoke should ideally be ravaging.

You accidentally drop that cigarette which starts a fire

that rages more and more

and starts consuming everything

till you point an accusing finger at me

because I allegedly distracted you and made you drop your cigarette.

You've dropped many things like this

and pointed many fingers at me

and I'm still standing there

stoically absorbing the fumes

which coat my insides with black soot.

You've turned me into a passive smoker

who's gradually metamorphosing...

Turning into a likeness of that very cigarette you hold aloft so proudly;

burning, burning bright red for a while

emitting snaking tendrils of acrid smoke;

that coat some one else's insides with black soot...

 and then crumbling to the ground like dust.

I want some fresh jasmine to clear the murky air

and steady my smoke-filled mind

but then as always,

you will reach for your lighter

and the fumes will obliterate the aroma of jasmine

polluting everything once again.