I asked him to consider. I asked him to choose. The smokes or me.
I'm terrified. I'm so afraid. I don't know what to think.
Deep down, I know he'll pick the smokes. He's always picked the smokes.
They give him what he needs. They give him what he wants.
I can't compete with that.

I'm preparing my mind. My heart. Not that it'd help when it all falls apart.
I'll move, the smokes will stay. I'll hurt, the smokes will stay.
All I'll have is me. No smokes, just me. Heart-broken but proud.
He'll have the smokes. He'll choose for the now. Leave the uncertainty.
I can't give him what the cigarettes do. I won't compete, I shouldn't have to.

I hate the possibility of goodbye. I'm sorry to me, to you, to us both.
I won't compete with cigarettes.

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