A Taste Like Regret [Poem]

Her lips taste like cigarette smoke

even from a thousand miles away.

Her eyes smolder whistfully in my memory like tobacco ashes,

ashes that her eyelids would flick deftly from her cheeks

to the pavement at random intervals

under both cloudy or clear skies.

Her soul burning slowly down to the filter

until there is nothing left

and whether cloudy or clear

the ash-touched sky

tastes like regret.

Photo by Peri Stojnic on Unsplash

On DVerse the prompt is to write about an emotion or abstract concept. What does it taste like?