Poetry: Bad Habit

I’m like a smoker

In need of a cigarette

I need you, even if

I know you’re detrimental

To my health

But the rush you give me

Is worth more

Than saving myself.

smoke

Did you enjoy this poem? You can find this poem and many others in Bleed Like Me: Poems for the Broken

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Poetry: Late

cakegone

I’ve arrived too late.

You’ve used up all your love and

outrageous displays of affections on someone else.

So that when Valentine’s Day passes by,

There are no flowers or romantic adventures.

You tell me, “I’ve done this all before—I’m tired.”

But you’ve done nothing with me

For me.

I’m left picking up the crumbs,

cause I’ve come too late.

And someone else has already eaten my cake.

By: Azzurra Nox