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Bad Habits

He couldn't quit me but selfishly made the decision to quit, anyway.
But I'm like a drug that kept him coming back for more.



He quit you.

Even though you thought you were his cigarette that he lighted up, 
smoking high, finding escape, one puff after another, an ecstasy to him. 

And you thought you were his tattoo that he inked for fun, 
permanently beautiful, carved on skin, one art after another, an obsession to him. 

You also thought you were his booze that he drank on lonely nights, 
feeling less sober, drunkenly dreaming, one sip after another, an addiction to him.

You knew it's a never for him to quit smoking or carving tattoos and even getting wasted. 
But he quit you.

Maybe you're more than a cigarette he took everyday. 
You flew him high in a twist of fate, you were his sweet escape. 

Maybe you're more than a tattoo on his skin.
Your name is written on his heart once he learn to say it often, you were his art.

Maybe you're more than a liquor he had for a company.
You made him lost in reality by just being there with him, you were his dream.

He quit you.

Only because you were intoxicating to him. You were more than an ecstasy, an obsession and an addiction to him. You were a collection of his bad habits. You made quitting seems impossible to him. You were like a drug and that could destroy him. 

So, he quit you before he couldn't even quit you. 

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