You are an old habit
clinging to me,
like a child clings to a comfort blanket.
To elaborate, I need to cut the apron strings.
Discard you like a cigarette ****,
another old habit.
We've marred and scarred each other and called it:
Love.
We are nothing more than substance abuse,
for each other.
Habit formed, co dependent adults.
No twelve step program for us.
Just your charred remains, found
in our bed.
Our bed that justified our habit.