i know how flawed i am. my body is ridden all over with cuts and bruises. my back has become an flexible ruler - never how it should be. i care too much about the pitch of my voice, and how small my hands are when they are interlinked with yours. i care about what strangers on the other side of this rock think of me. i poison my already dead heart with things to make me feel alive once again. but i am trying. trying to improve. trying to be better. you. you are a risk taker. you don't follow the rules. you are the taste of liquor on my tongue, i know it probably will end with a crash, but i cant help but want more. you are the smoke in my lungs, and i should stop smoking, but i have tried, but you are apart of me. i am addicted to the taste of you. i am addicted to the sound of your voice when you are burning out, but you're trying to stay awake. i am addicted to the feeling of your hands when you are nervous and i love you. that i cannot deny. so maybe i will quit another day.