The last one in the box

There had been a two week break,

followed up by the mellow week.

The drunken texts,

and the cliched blocking of numbers.

She figured he had moved on,

She had never spoken to him again.

Every facebook update of his still,

was hard to get used to.

But she was,

Dressing up, going out

Attending parties, and meeting men.

She had amazing friends,

diamonds who stood by her,

helping her get through the moments,

taking things back to normal;

and she was.

She came back home one day,

and apalled by the mess in the room,

she finally decided to clean up her act.

Picking up the old pieces of paper,

and the empty packets of cigarettes,

strewn around the room.

Lay in one corner however,

was a small unknown pack,

they weren't the ones she usually smoked,

they were different.

She picked it up, and rattled it,

out of habit, like she did to every box,

to make sure she didn't throw out one of them,

most of them never did.

This one did though.

She took a peek, and in lay a single Benson and Higgs.

She never smoked them. She knew who did though.

And in a single moment, her thoughts came crashing down,

as she fell to her knees,

with shaking hands and a quivering lip.

His last visit came to memory like yesterday,

The pizza, the movie, and the kiss.

That kiss, the heat, the passion,

The last moment,

when the two had been at the same place,

Physically, and metaphysically,

Completely and utterly.

For over a hundred minutes, she could not think of anything,

other than the rush she had been through.

She took a sip of water, and a deep breath,

threw the box with the last cigarette in the pile of trash,

She'd bought one that evening,

the one she usually smoked.

She didn't need that cigarette,

the last one in the box;

just like he,

wasn't the last one in the box.