Poetry
Leave a Comment

The Addict

person holding apple in hands, the addict

I ate the apple
I left the garden.
Blame me.
But I’m sorry.
I will stop.
I will sit here until I forget
why I’m waiting
and who I’m waiting for.
The needles left only scars
the scars are fading
I stopped this time I promise.
My blue skin, transparent will gain color
eventually.
But I’m sorry.
I will stop.
I will rest on this blue plastic seat
wrinkled from use
rusted along the sliver edges
cracked from the cold.
I will wait years for you.
Spinning in circles
watching the cars go by.
Hundreds of coffees
black with three packets of sugar.
Caffeine to fuel my new addiction.
Perhaps you will find me
smelling like greasy bacon
fried hamburgers, stale milk.
Maybe you will recognize my face
my puffy eyes, shaking fingers.
I ate the apple
I left the garden.
Blame me.
But I’m sorry.
I will stop.
 

Featured Image Credit: Thammie Cascales[

[Home » Poetry » The Addict]

This entry was posted in: Poetry

by

Marisa Donnelly, M.Ed., is a writer/editor, credentialed teacher, proud bonus mama, and CEO of Word & Sole, a creative platform and company offering expert writing/editing services. She is the Director of Donnelly’s Daily Apple, a flexible learning/tutoring and educational resource platform, and the lead voice for Momish Moments and Step by Step Parents, verticals dedicated to sharing and advocating for non-traditional parenting journeys. Marisa currently resides in San Diego, California, with her husband, kiddo, and their two rambunctious Pitbulls. ❤️

Share your thoughts!