The end of a cigarette is my daughter

[billy]

i'll be blunt

why the spaces in your poetry?
i do admit it kept me longer in the poem.
no constructive feedback apart form saying the end didn't work for me.
unless the narrator is blaming her daughter for their station in life?
the rest of it worked well. i enjoyed the extended metaphor. and the sense of indigence you imparted to the reader through some original images and lines. did you mix your tenses in the first two lines with walked and wash?
thanks for the read,

'The end of a cigarette is my daughter’

            We have walked so far, you and
I, through the misted density of forgetful towns
    Which wash our feet       like Christ with perfume.
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. Feeding them on     our blood
And the disappointed humours which congeal on cold windowpanes.

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. This end – — – this end.
This end is me.