The Half Cigar

It lies there
In her purse
The half cigar
Butted out
After a bout of cough
And a drag too many
Bitters her tongue
It lies there
Its tip crumpled
Uneven and dark
Ugly for now
Waiting for the flame
To light up
Its vapour soul
Sending it wafting
Kissing her lips
To where it belongs
Deep inside her bosom