Habits

I let you go like some old habits of mine-
Checking your Facebook profile every minute I touch my phone,
Reading our old messages for signs that would tell you don't love me anymore,
Putting a burning cigarette in my mouth every time I thought of you,
Exhaling the smoke every time I realized you aren't with me.

But such are the habits that do not die-
You come back to me one more time,
You collide with me on a busy street on some Saturday morning, looking at someone else's photos from that phone in your hand;
I let you go like the wine of Venice I swear I would never drink again,
I let you go like the promise of never writing a poem again
Yet I hold a new bottle of wine dearly in Vienna,
A few blank pages and a new pen sit by my side in the cold nights when I would sit in a train and try hard not to think of you.

But such are the ways with thoughts-
When I close the doors, they find a new window to come in,
Rotten like the smell of the dried fish you used to cook,
Fresh like the love bites on your neck that I don't recognize,
Disturbing like the memories I have dug graves for some five years ago,
Like the way I don't forget my own mother tongue even if I hadn't spoken in that language for years.

But such are the ways with the way we talk-
That your dark grey eyes wouldn't look at me anymore,
That you'd speak but only to say something in a language belonging to people who once ruled us using words that don't resonate with your feelings, 
That you would look back but only to check if you forgot something,
That you would see my tears but think it is the lack of sleep in my eyes,
That you would see my smile but not smile back at me anymore,
That you would not understand why I do things I do the way you used to read my mind only a few years ago,
That you would see my burning cigarette but think it is just a new habit I picked.

But such are the ways of my habits-
That every hour is a closure, every hour I quit
Only for a new beginning but the same old shit.