What’s left

You stand there stone faced
Calloused fingers grip a cigarette
I watch the red light burn
As it all slips further and further away
Sometimes I say too much
But there's not enough time to say it all
So I stare at that light
And let the silence speak instead
Knowing I only have until it burns down to a nub
What's left of us?
A discarded cigarette, laying in the gutter
Sounds about right