at fifteen past two

It was 2am.
she stood at the window,
with a cigarette between her lips,
puffing,
in Life’s face.
Puff-puff
Listen you, she said
'I am not quitting yet'

With the first puff -
there was a light-headed freedom,
and a certain tingling in her nerves

The second puff -
the world moved in a
motionless animation,
the leaves swayed
minus the breeze

Third puff -
the sky exploded above her head,
the tall buiding far away,
threatened to walk her way.
Puff-puff,
'I am not quitting yet'

There was darkness,
with the fourth puff,
smoke in her lungs,
nostrils and
clouds in her head,
her ears rang,
with magnifying sounds.
Silence.

It was ten past two,
she hung on the window,
her hair in the wind,
hands dangled lit
by the streetlights.
The in-between
of life and death.