Just taste it, not breathe it in.

you bought a tobacco pipe
so you could smoke
without getting lung cancer.
you just taste it,
not breathe it in, you said.

I imagine you sitting in a
high backed chair,
legs crossed and smoking with
the pipe jauntily hanging
from your soft fingers that I
never had the chance to hold,
golden eyes gleaming.
laughing and talking in your
typical hushed tones that
hold heavy ideas.

while I lay on a bed
in a house that's not mine,
silently passing far less
elegant activities around
the room. You seem to
have life figured out.
I am still childishly grasping
for my reasons and beliefs.
I wish I was bold enough
to get you back into
my world so you could
steady me like before.