We all have addictions, I’ve come to know.
Mine is 5 feet 4 —
convenient for my lips to reach her forehead.
She answers to a foreign name,
and even the tone of her skin vows she is foreign.
Yet she’s as African as the Serengeti,
as Zimbabwean as the ruins built of stone.
Not all addictions are bad, I’ve come to know.
But not this one. This one drains the purity from my soul.
She disappears for months and returns with promises to be my home,
only to vanish again, leaving me unguided against the cold.
Not all addictions can be overcome, I’ve come to know.
Even when it comes dire,
even when she unweaves the fabric that makes me whole,
I still believe she’s the best thing I’ve ever had.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 4:16 AM UTC
We all have addictions, I’ve come to know.
Mine is 5 feet 4 —
convenient for my lips to reach her forehead.
She answers to a foreign name,
and even the tone of her skin vows she is foreign.
Yet she’s as African as the Serengeti,
as Zimbabwean as the ruins built of stone.
Not all addictions are bad, I’ve come to know.
But not this one. This one drains the purity from my soul.
She disappears for months and returns with promises to be my home,
only to vanish again, leaving me unguided against the cold.
Not all addictions can be overcome, I’ve come to know.
Even when it comes dire,
even when she unweaves the fabric that makes me whole,
I still believe she’s the best thing I’ve ever had.