#WritcoPoemPrompt122
Someone has asked you a question,

That feels far too personal,
It's only a first impression,

You might be completely wrong and irrational,

Your memory is foggy,
But you can scrape a few things and make them last,

The one thing you remember of your brother.

Was that he wasn't always a smoker.

Or maybe he just covered it up better when you first met,

The first day you notice his sweater smells somewhat of cigarette smoke, through you brush it off,

Maybe it was of pine wood or dew for when you wanted to be sentimental some days.

You eventually pluck up the courage, and ask him about it,

When you've walked the road together for so long
And finally start to call him your brother.

He runs a hand through his hair, he always does when he's about to laugh muttering something about stress and gas stations.

Leaving you more confuse then you were before.

You wear your heart on your sleeve.

He kept his cards close to his chest,
(In the same pocket as the lighter, in fact)

You soon realize, every table is dressed with a bowl of gray soot, you always through it looked trashy and irresponsible.

Digging through the drawers you find an inhaler
(He started carrying it around)

Your guts start to twist every time you see the wispy smoke escape his lips.

Cigars cigarettes and lighters litter his house, Through never yours.

A bridge he...