Chain Smoker Closer Lyrics

They say fire is cleansing, a transformative type of destruction. After a forest fire, nature heals and grows stronger. It's forever changed but not destroyed. Fire is painful but beautiful, something that is warm but left unattended can be devastating. In the flames I was broken, destroyed, but in the ashes I was restored. Left floating in the grey, the smoke that led me through a divine transformation. Now I'm left adrift, the dark my only guide in the smoke, the blue of the sky, of his eyes, the only guide in the light. Forever torn and pulled between the two, unsure who I can trust and terrified to make the wrong choice. Not just my life hangs in the balance, but the lives and well being of all of humanity. It just might be too much for these wings to bare.

It's been five years. Five years since we broke up and the last time I saw him. And yet I still can't get him out of my head. He returns to my thoughts and my dreams, completely uninvited and unwelcome. Even though I'm assigned now and I should think of my friend, not him. But he was the first. The first one that has captivated my heart and body and I still can't seem to forget somewhere inside. But I can pretend. Everything is fine because he moved out and we don't see each other anymore. My life goes on and I am happy. Happy. OLLIE F**king five years. Five years of suffering, loneliness and anger. I never wanted to break up with her. I should never have let her go. She took everything from me and I could never breathe fully after she left. There were others, but none like her. But I could still pretend that my life was not such hell. But now ... now I'm going back to the city where it all started. I'm going back to take what's mine. Because she always belonged only to me

At a highway service area, the man parked in the next space points under his van and shouts that it's leaking fuel and is about to explode. I am a veteran auto mechanic with ten years of experience. Without hesitation, I slide under the vehicle and, within ten seconds, clamp off the fuel line. The moment I crawl back out, I catch the smell of mineral water. The owner, Billy Dickson, immediately pulls out his phone and starts a livestream while several of his accomplices pin me against the hood. "Watch this, everyone! We set the perfect trap and caught a gang of catalytic converter thieves! See how smoothly he got under the chassis? He's obviously a repeat offender. Every missing part at this service area has to be his doing!" Covered in dirt and grease, I try to explain to the crowd that I only cut the line because I thought the vehicle was about to catch fire and endanger everyone nearby. Billy spits a thick wad of phlegm right onto my shoe. "Who asked you to stick your nose into my business? You crawled under my van because you wanted to steal parts! Either you pay for a brand-new vehicle today, or I'll hand you over to the police and make sure you rot in prison!" Not wanting to delay getting my wife, who's about to go into labor, to the hospital, I grit my teeth and transfer them 20,000 dollars to settle the matter privately. Three days later, on a long downhill stretch of a winding mountain road, Billy's van completely loses its brakes. Black smoke pours from the tires. He recognizes my car and frantically blares the horn. Rolling down his window, he begs me to tell him how to survive. I simply press down on the accelerator and widen the distance between us, my face completely expressionless. "Back for another livestream to chase views? Give me a break. To prove I'm not a car thief, I already threw my wrenches into the river. You'll have to figure out for yourself how to jump out of the van."

Layla is standing too close to him. She knows it the moment she stops moving, when the space between them shifts from accidental to deliberate. Luca doesn’t step back. He never does. He only looks down at her, dark eyes steady and unreadable, as if he’s been waiting to see whether she’d do exactly this. “You’re doing it again,” he says quietly. “Doing what?” Her voice gives her away—soft, breathless. “Standing where you shouldn’t.” His gaze drops briefly to her mouth. “And pretending you don’t know.” Heat coils low in her stomach. “Maybe I don’t care.” That gets his attention. Something sharp flickers across his expression—control tightening. He reaches out slowly, giving her time to pull away. She doesn’t. His fingers hook lightly under her chin, tilting her face up. The touch is barely there, but it steals her breath all the same. “Careful,” he murmurs. “That’s not something you say to men like me.” “Why?” she whispers. “Because you might misunderstand?” His thumb traces her jaw, deliberate. “No,” he says. “Because I won’t.” His hand stays there, steady, grounding. She feels the restraint in him now—the effort it takes not to close the distance completely. “There are lines I don’t cross lightly,” Luca says. “And once I do, Layla, I don’t step back.” She swallows. “Then why are you still here?” He leans in just enough that his breath ghosts her skin. “Because you haven’t asked me to.”

The day my husband's first love shows up at my house, I catch a faint, cloyingly sweet scent of gardenias in the air. My genetically-linked asthma flares violently at the scent of gardenias. As expected, halfway through the meal, my chest suddenly tightens. I can barely draw a breath before collapsing onto the couch. My younger brother sprints into my bedroom like he's lost his mind, grabs an inhaler, and shoves it straight to my mouth. "Tess!" he roars. "Why the hell is there gardenia perfume?" Everyone panics. My dad grabs a liquor bottle. My mom lunges forward, grabbing the woman by the hair. And my husband positions himself in front of her, protecting his beloved first love as she trembles. Amid the chaos, I muster the last of my strength. I reach into the crack of the couch, grab another inhaler, take a deep breath, and slowly push myself upright. I let out a cold laugh as I fix my gaze on the woman cowering behind my husband. "Finished with your little performance? It's my turn now."

My name is Addison Calder. During my first heat as an adult werewolf, Morgan Flint suddenly announces that he wants to end things. I can't stop crying—not from a broken heart but because the torment of my mating cycle is consuming me from within. Gripping his sleeve tightly, I lean closer, attempting to kiss away the tension. Impatient, Morgan shoves me toward his older brother, Tucker Flint. "Hey, Tucker. Addie's drunk and losing it. Can you help calm her down?" As Tucker steps forward, Morgan leans in and whispers, "Keep an eye on her. Don't let any other men get close. I'm only breaking up with her for now. Once I'm done fooling around, I'll get back together with her." Tucker nods and gently lifts me into the car. "It hurts, doesn't it?" he says softly. Overwhelmed by the pain, I clutch his tie with tears streaming down my face. "Please… Help me," I plead. Tucker's pupils contract, his voice low and hoarse. "And how exactly do you want me to help you?" In a flash, I lean in and press my lips to his. "Kiss me… or let me kiss you." Our passionate kiss melts away much of the tension gnawing at me. Noticing Tucker's reddened ears, I grab his tie once more. "Will you take me home?"