Waiting for you was like waiting for my mother to stop smoking,
but you know that when you drop an old habit
you tend to pick up a new one

She never told me about the filters she left behind my pillow case,
or the empty bottles of wine hidden behind the children's books.

And when you walked into the restroom you could see the walls tainted in varying shades of yellows.

She taught me about addiction in a subtle way.
By age seven I learned to enjoy the smell,
and by age eight I learned what it felt like to be drunk from neglect.