Habits

Habits don't just come and go,
they come, and stay, they rarely ever do leave.
When a habit becomes a habit, we may never really know,
Or so I think, as another habit weaves.

Habits don't die, they live with us,
Of course, they may go on a never ending sabbatical.
Who knows when a habit breaks, no one ever does.
Keeping a track seems fit, but impractical.

Habits don't just have to be things,
People can become our habits too,
What one does, says, hears or thinks,
Can be the habit for another person, or two.

People-habits are the most dangerous ones,
These sabbaticals hurt the heart the most.
The absence creates darkness, that can't by even a million suns can't be undone,
But life goes on, lifeless, like a ghost.
Whether the absence is for a month or a day,
Life is hard, breathing is strenuous and unfulfilling,
The heart at memories, does set its bay,
And each moment is hard, extremely gruelling.

These people-habits, like addictions, make us needy.
Desperate for their company, it leaves us wounded.
Our heart lies alone, bleeding.
The horrible emptiness, the feeling of being undead.

For our completion, for our healing,
We need those people, for our happiness, up close,
Cause only they can undo the fiery heart ache feelings,
Cause only they are our drug's last dose.