This one’s hard for me, opens up feelings
of inadequacy over what seems
to be an unnatural chemical
dependency on a gas station purchase.
When did I get like this? At what age did
my once spry child lips decide they need this
to survive? How specifically did this
addiction begin? It feels like I’ve been
living with the weight of this small plastic
container all my life. If my lips get
too dry, I panic, tend to simulate
insanity, monomanic. I
complain and whine until I feel that bliss.
I’m an addict, but oh so soft to kiss.

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