"I’ve had such a fixation or attachment rather to so many different lighters throughout my young adult life. Bics, clippers, zippos, shitty gas station lighters, etc. But the one I possess currently was stolen from the passenger seat of your car. It’s a stale shade of blue and the child protector has been stripped, most likely from a fork. It’s my favorite lighter because it’s a constant reminder. I carry you specifically in my right pocket, occasionally leave you out on the step from these exact rambling notes. However you’re always there in the morning and I scoop you up and carry you throughout the day. When I’ve struck you one too many times, I’ll still collect your emptiness in a cluttered box and forget how my cigarettes use to taste."