I always said I would never date a smoker, until you. 

I think I get the addiction now. 

The feeling that you can’t live without it 

because in that moment

it feels right.

Like the whole world fades away, 

and every time it’s on your lips, you never want it to end. 

 

It’s just you and that bad habit you can’t seem to quit, but it’s okay because 

you don’t want to. 

 

Maybe it’s bad for you, 

maybe you’re killing yourself a little more every time you go back to it when you say you won’t,  

and maybe you hide in lies from the painful truth,

that you will never be able to 

stop. 

 

You tell everyone that they don’t understand because they’ve never had a taste of rush that races through your veins, into your heart, 

overwhelming you with happiness right in that moment, 

but then makes you hate yourself. 

Hate yourself more than I hate you.