It could be like orange juice in a toothpaste mouth
paying for the teeth someone’s ripping out
I could keep rubbing love in my gums
to get a fix until they’re sore and raw
‘cuz i’ve got a hell of an addict’s habit
desperate for love when I gotta have it
I cannot stand in my own two shoes
always trying to borrow yours
It could be like guitar strings on a rainy day
as easy as reading the day away
little daisies could grow in a wounded patch
if I didn’t keep pulling them up
‘cuz I’ve got a little red cloak of a habit
to take my own advice would be anticlimactic
still desperate for love even when I have it
when I wrote the prescription myself
The 365 Poetry Project 