the act of being slick and sleek just isn’t enough.
i’ve learned how to manage but i’m never a master
at anything i do.
and i hurt sometimes but i’ll be okay.
and people are cruel sometimes but i’ve memorized it
all too well.
just like i’ve memorized the way my legs always turn to jello
when i’m running on this pavement, my body melting,
just to know that i can feel again.
i used to feel when i was with the first one i ever gave my heart to,
when we used to spend our nights under the stars
swearing that there must be something bigger out there,
much bigger than us.
and he looked at my emerald eyes and told me pretty things.

now i spend my mornings at the bus stop
sipping sweet tea since i’ve been craving something sweet for a while:
caffeine, and my emerald addiction
to what i can never grasp as my own.
i will never master my addiction, compulsion,
it gives me a sense of thrill that can’t be washed away.
and my words are wasted …
kick the habit, kick the habit.
envy, lies, addiction: an art these eyes must let go.