Loving you was my self harm,
your words like a blade upon my skin,
making marks on my memories,
and tearing me apart by each cut.
So I became addicted to the high
but now with you gone,
I recreate the memories on my wrist-
but its not the same self-inflicted.
And I lied that day,
I said I did not love you,
but loving you was killing me
and losing you is my recovery.
Yes, you were a bad little habit-
but you were my bad little habit
