Ode to a Clove

They mock me
call me hippie, faggot
assume I reek of patchouli;
But really, why I smoke them
is not their longevity
not their pleasant aroma
not their pungent nature
but that they require
a taming all their own:

If I don't suck
they won't stay lit.
I respect that.
There's a cherry
still present
that needs me;
knows my name.

Djarum Black
I stay true
and acknowledge
the existence of repercussions.

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