My Vice

It’s a habit you begged me to give up- and I did. For a while.

But it’s just the same with you, angel. You’re the habit I beg myself to give up every day. I can do it, but only for so long.

Another breath sucks the poison deeper into my lungs. I get light-headed. I had given it up for longer than usual this time. A few breaths later and I settle into a comfortable routine. Just like riding a bike.

I’m wearing the shirt you love. The one I wear too often. My jeans are ripped, my belt is broken, my shoes are worn. This is how you love me.

I breathe in the last of the smoke, crush my vice underfoot and lock the door.

It was your very worst nightmare. You sobbed. You screamed. But it wasn’t real.

This time it’s real. This time it isn’t an accident. And this time, I won’t be there to tell you it’s happened.

But that’s the point, angel.