The end of a cigarette is my daughter

[heslopian]

'The end of a cigarette is my daughter’

            We have walked so far, you and
I, through the misted density of forgetful towns I love "misted density"; it conveys such silent claustrophobia.
    Which wash our feet       like Christ with perfume. Is this an allusion to Mary Magdelene washing Jesus' feet? Because if so, and even if not, it feels like a weird and extraneous subversion of that story. It sounds like you're mocking Christ, which is fine, but feels off topic.
We smell of sourness and untouched hopes     which     linger
        At the back of       refrigerators or between the cushions
Of     our old     sofa; they wait for us     to find them and pick them out
              And once again cherish our longings, holding them
To our breasts like a feeding     child. Some really excellent lines. The specificity of the images is great, creating a real sense of abandoned homes and urban melancholy. Feeding them on     our blood
And the disappointed humours which congeal on cold windowpanes. Another great line; a really subtle, clever way of conveying that standard image of someone dejectedly sighing on a windowpane.

This breath in me is you. My lungs are full of your voice and
      Whispers       and I can barely breathe because     you are
My breath. I pull you to my lips – — – take a drag, and you are
    Both outside and in. This end, this conclusion, of     a wet, bitter
Cigarette is my daughter. I'd suggest ending here. What follows is just hammering your point home, and "cigarette is my daughter" would be a stronger, more elegant close. This end – — – this end.
This end is me.

Really great stuff, filled with subtle lament, darkness and poisonous warmth. Critique is JMHO. Thank you for the read