Tar
Remorse is a fundamental organ
you just don't seem to possess,
and so your mistakes are repeated
over and over and over
and it never matters to you
because they're just another
bad habit you can't be
bothered to break,
and I couldn't stay with you
because staying with you
to feel happy,
was like smoking to let
my lungs breathe.
I hope you feel my absence
as a mighty wallop of pain
all over your chest,
and I hope your lungs
will be coated in regret,
Our friendship was a cigarette;
alluring, seemingly okay,
addictive;
our friendship was another
bad habit I inevitably fell into,
but maybe I'm thinking
of the wrong bad habit.
Friendship is not a bad habit,
the bad habit was
you.
Excuse me if I quit.
- Crimsyy
A/N: Thankyou so much for reading (:
Vote and comment your interpretation of this poem or any thoughts, but only if you'd like. Dear randomjc, have you spotted the new word or is that just a velleity for me?
YOU ARE READING
Burn (#Wattys2017)
PoetryThere are cigarette lighters everywhere you turn. Welcome to my new book, Burn! I hope you enjoy it (: - Crimsyy
