I was worried, she won’t be able to pull off this time.

I picked up the phone, I called;

It rang, she answered:

“…I am perfectly alright,” I heard her say.

“…No I don’t get addicted,” she hung.

The next day, I paid her a visit:

Burnt butts, crushed cans, cell phone, books all lay scattered.

“Won’t you ever stop worrying about me?” I heard her say.

She was about to say more when I cut,

“Are you sure you don’t get addicted?”

There was a sign of nonchalance in her voice and face.

I knew her well enough, I knew she was right

No intoxicant had the strength to win her mind.

Yet I knew she was addicted; to what she wouldn’t admit.

I knew it was the man she loves, but he didn’t.

I knew she wouldn’t accept it was he whom she missed.

But her heart knew well enough, she was his addict!! 





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