We all want things

That we don’t need.

Words that burned our chests

Sweet sugar compliments that we smoked greedily

Fueling our validations of our selves

For a peace of mind.


We all have our vices.


Fresh air is a thrill for some

But I was ready to bathe in the polluted half truths

We swore were glasses filled to the brim.

A heavy night of drinking,

Ice cubes to sooth the burns in our chests

From the knives we dragged through each other’s skin

To prove who had more heart.


You are an addiction

That my sweet tooth cannot resist.



K. Thwaites


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