Addictions

1st March 2025, another old poem

Cut, cut, cut. Your absence makes me cut myself Like a new addiction, It replaces my love, Makes my grief valid, Makes your absence easier.

But not quite.

Lost in my tears And the blade gets closer. The cold tip of it, reminds me of your fingers. You both are the same. Both hurt me Both make me bleed. Both an addiction. Both an illusion.

Just like my anger, A result of my pain.