I have a lot of bad habits—some larger than the other. Recently I’ve been writing poems about these bad habits by pairing a habit that seems trivial with another habit that is more serious. This is my way of analyzing, owning, and making a conscious effort to fix my faults. Within this poem, I use my unhealthy addiction to fried chicken to trivialize my habit of sticking around places (friendships, relationships, etc.) longer than I should.
Oh, you crunchy devil,
You villain masked in egg, flour, and seasoning.
I keep saying I’m going to quit you,
Drop you like the bad habit you are,
But I never knew it would be this hard to take the knife out of my own hand.
If you keep eating fried chicken every day you’ll have a heart attack, my grandma jokes.
She says I have to learn self-control,
I have to learn how to love the parts of me no one can see.
Every day I want to quit you.
Trade in my greasy fingers for something healthier,
Stop allowing my eyes to see only your golden crispy perfection, and start noticing the grease that leaks from you like a hurricane.
Sometimes I think to myself while biting into a piece of freshly made chicken, that one day I’ll grow tired of causing my own downfall.
But I will always have an appetite for you.
I will always be willing to backtrack into unhealthy habits,
Willing to continue this dangerous dance.
Willing to shave off years of my life for one more bite.
