The choice to stop was mine.
The addiction itself was a different story.
Doctors don't write prescriptions for this kind of stuff.
The cold sweats associated with anger.
The beginning is the hardest part.
Admitting temptation.
I was addicted.
The situation had ended but I kept obsessing.
Knowingly risking health.
The way you feel, the way you taste.
I couldn't afford to lose you as well as myself in the process.
Properly insuring another substance for another.
The cost of Medicare.
It was my decision, my choice.
Your voice a constant peer pressure of finding bliss.
If only for a minute.
At some point I ignored my own voice.
Reaching for you again.
I acknowledge that it was my responsibility.
Blaming everything around me, even you.
In this brief moment, common sense wasn't so common.
Not anymore.
Forgetting that actions have consequences.
For every second I ignore you.
You whine, you cry.
Becoming my chronic illness.
The enabler to what ever complaint.
It's hard to quit.
Finding every excuse except the right one.
She was the highway.
I was the traveler.
Weary in search of exit.
This road becoming longer and longer.
The lights becoming more and more distant.
Each exit in-between stops having fewer establishments.
Additional signs appearing with more temptation.
The cold sweats are back, this anxiousness to reach for something that I know isn't there.
This addiction to hold you, crave you, taste you.
This urge to love you as much as I did.
This persistent itch that I can't live without you.
Doctors don't write prescriptions for this kind of stuff.
The warning labels causing more harm than good.
Reminiscing on times that I shouldn't.
The choice to stop was mine.
To love someone that doesn't love you back

She was a traveling soul.
The galaxy resting above her nose.
I'd sit & stare.
Wondering where the stars would go next.
Both young & in love I let go.
Tracing together swirls of color.
The planets all together aligned.
Definitely in love with no where to fall.
It hurt when she'd look away.
I'd lie to myself everytime.
A traveling soul with crescent eyes.
Where will she go next.
Would she bother looking back.
I'd genuinely gaze to fail in love.
I could feel her forget.
Traveling one place to the next.
At one time I saw the universe whole.
Myself reaching for the telescope.
She's nowhere in sight

At last, the truth came out.
I was an accessory to her outfit.
The many plastic bands that dangle against her wrist.
She was into fashion.
The appearance of how things look.
She placed more above me.
The beginning.
Lost in the reflection they'd give.
This false perception of how she'd feel inside.
She'd sit and fidget.
Checking her reflection on the screen of her phone.
Unable to differentiate who was who.
Another attachment left to sit on the dresser.
Laced in things to compensate what's missing.
The face of her phone cracked

I legit never knew the beauty black roses possess.
I stared at one day after day.
She looked like she didn't want to be bothered.
Still she'd look and stare.
She grew differently than the red ones.
Prepackaged, given to others in mass quantity.
She'd sit alone and read amongst herself.
With arched eyebrows and shapely dress.
Most were afraid of her thorns. Despite all the beauty she possessed inside.
They only saw her outside.
Reason her thorns were so sharp.
The misconception that she was to be feared.
When in reality they protected her.
They made her to think that she was ugly.
The red roses that surrounded.
They'd bunch around her in fear of their own self conscious.
Attempting to stop her smile.
The more they tried, the more she stood out.
Grounded in her faith she grew out of her insecurity.
Being the regal beauty that she was.
Realizing the heroine she searched was inside her the whole time.
Her petals testimony to her root.
When I spoke she cheerfully replied with a smile.
I walked by day after day

Currently there isn't a price on all the things That I love.
Depending on the situation I still check my pockets.
The places I go I am not use to exiting without pulling out my wallet.
Though it's not much, the minimum amount of your time provides the same thrill.
It's hard to disagree with a good heart.
Our opinions may be different but it's decent.
Our life evolving into deep quotations.
The revolution against cash registers everywhere has begun.
The clinginess of change and dollar bills.
Slices of our time stuffed and slid into the opening of each others mouth.
The trouble with that is we choose to label everything with price.
Ignoring common sense for cents.
I ignore my pockets whenever you are around as nothing of value can be found there.
I tread softly as more of your time creates more currency.
And I can't jeopardize losing that.
There isn't a career that can fill my wallet like you fill my heart.
No time clock anywhere that could justify.
Come tax time you are my greatest asset.
Come payday you are the currency I seek

She offered me a glass of water from the tap.
Delighted by the fact I happily accepted.
This wasn't like anything I've ever tasted.
I've never had Evian but I'd bottle it the same.
This particular taste wasn't accompanied by anything sour.
A strange taste that makes your face scrunch.
Before I knew it I drunk the glass whole.
Fiji water is an acquired taste.
But all in all I still enjoyed it.
I asked for another glass, feeling each ripple swish around my mouth.
All water doesn't taste the same and this by far.
The best water I ever tasted.
Ice included.
Fogging the outside of the glass.
Fingerprints forever stained.
If I was a fish I'd be in heaven.
The correctness of solely something to become apart of.
The importance that signifies how great this is.
The human tongue is an amazing thing.
Enjoying the spring water that flows directly from the well of your heart

I've lived in your heart for three years.
My payments were always before time.
If I made too much noise I assure you I didn't know.
My foot steps are often loud, the neighbor beside me keeps his music up.
I never filed a complaint.
Accepting things as they are.
Outside of that nothing seemed to be wrong.
The conditions weren't bad at first.
Everything worked.
The sink clogged a bit.The locks need to be replaced.
The things of which I done myself.
I felt home here in my one bedroom.
Not too much company so no need for much furniture.
There were nights I couldn't feed myself,
making sure your demands were met.
Differences between needs and wants.
Still I received note after note about noise among other things.
Things accused of though disputed.
You smiled in my face and told me all was forgiven.
To receive a note of eviction.
The neighbors music still loud.
My landlord unable to be found.
Someone new moving into my place