The Cigar

I smoked the cigar I got for you-

For Father's Day last year.

It was old, dried out. Cracked in many places. 

Much like you are, if not in person. 

In mind.

You left it in a cabinet,

After you left

I am unsure if

You ever planned to smoke it-

-But I did. 

All in all,

It was alright. Not as good as I had hoped-

But then again,

Neither were you.

So it's gone now.

Burnt up in a fury of ash and smoke.

GONE.