The Irony of a Lighter.

By Tyler D. Griffis

Ask any smoker...
Some lighters just have sentimental value.
Left among trash, cigarette butts, and an old crusted fork was a lighter.
One of those vintage Zippo's.
"TNO"
The initials of something or someone unknown.
Dropped and forgotten by one of the infamous roommates.
The piece, pushed aside under a chair.
Our neighbors actually.
A uniquely shaped one at that, something we had to have.
Retrieved from the trash, thrown aside because of a little mold.
"A little disinfectant, no one could be the wiser."
If only a chair could speak.
Some foggy memories which seemed like a series of tragic events.
Events I'd much rather forget.
Months of hard work ripped off in less than a blink.
A blink where no one saw a thing.
Questions brushed aside with stalling solutions.
None of which fulfilled.
Spoon feed lie after lie, god I was stupid.
No one can understand what rock bottom feels like till your left flat on your back.
Belonging to a friend, left by a coward.
"Trust No One"
A fitting title.
I quickly pocketed it and continued to pack for my parents house.