Addict
This sounds like an excuse, but I feel it too. The itch, called anticipation. The burn, called waiting. And lastly, the sooth, called love. However, we both know each boundary we shouldn’t cross, and every time we do…we know the consequences chasing after us. But I still kiss him like an addict takes a cigarette, waiting to get one more hit.
I feel the toxicity burning through my lungs, hoping to catch my breath. But instead I suffocate in his arms. Waiting to be lavished by the move he pulls next. Maybe that’s why I look at him like an overheated dog looking at water. I need him. We go together, like two opposite puzzle pieces meant to be. He notices it too. I feel there is a connection, like a force pulling us together. Like the north and south of a magnet.
Smelling his cologne is like when an alcoholic wants another drink, scratching the skin, forcing the brain to think you need more. Bringing me closer to him, i have to restrain myself, if not i know where we’ll fall.
When I see him it’s like smelling a sweet flower while the warm sun hits your face and the slight breeze rolls up and down your back hinting winter wasn’ t too long ago mixed with the smell of cozy fireplaces with hot chocolate and the sound of calmed music playing in the background.
All I know is when I’m with him I feel it all. My favorite feeling is every time my eyes first see him. It’s as if I’ve never seen his beautiful facial structure. Every time I see him my mind fills with rabbits, and daisy filled meadows. It is all just so peaceful.
I stare at my phone, hoping the next notification going off is his. Hoping I’ll hear his voice rise from the speaker. I feel like he has cursed me with the forever loving of him. He makes me cross the lines I know I shouldn’t, but I do anyway. I love him. I’m obsessed with him. I’m addicted to him. I can only hope this relationship won’t be what most end up to be. I want the rest of my life to be spent dancing elegantly in our living room and our children laughing at us for being so in love.
I want our children to laugh and call us old. I want our children to ask “how did you fall in love?” and they find love like ours. I want us to hold our daughter as she lays on the bed crying about a guy who had broken her heart. And I want our son to come home knowing how to respect a woman, because his father had taught him well.
I also want us standing hand in hand as our daughter is being given away at the altar. And our son to cry as his bride walks down the aisle. I want our children to find a love like ours because anytime i think about him i go into a relapse, i scratch my skin and beg for more than what i had wanted from him before.
I hope one day our parents will look down at us and think “they did it… they found the love that i’ve been looking for.” Because being with him for a few hours feels like a few seconds, a day feels like an hour, a week feels like a few days, it could be eternity and I wouldn’t get tired.
When i know i’m going to see him, my insides churn, my mouth fills with water, my need for him becomes bigger. He is the cigarette, I am the addict. He is the beverage, I am the alcoholic. I know the next drink, or the next inhale will eventually bring me down.
I’m just waiting on the last day to get buzzed off his scent, and drunk off his touch. Hoping it’ll be the last day we see each other laying side by side and laughing at how our kids are grown, and we’ll share quick stories that were in our memory once as we hold hand in hand staring at the sky. We’ll breathe in, and that will be our last breath.
I couldn’t spend eternity with him and think it’s enough. I call him every night, and hearing his voice come from the speakers of my phone slow my heart rate. Make me calm, tired, he is peaceful. But when I see him in person… my heart paces, like it is trying to win a race against itself.
Who will win? I’m trying to win this battle between my body and my thoughts. Both agitating because one is pushing me toward him, and the other is pushing me away.
It’s not healthy to be so addicted to something, that you can’t help but fidget when you’re without. My thoughts seem to be uncontrollable, like a car with no brakes. Dangerous and is hard to stop. Unlike my body which will take a step back, my thoughts move me forward. Like an addict impatient for the next inhale on a cigarette. The addiction to you has now become an obsession. Something I now need, and feed off of. Like a fiend for nicotine.
I crave the touch. Maybe one day I won’t be so addicted, but it’s not possible to become unaddicted to something without not having it at all.
And I couldn’t go without you. As in I couldn’t walk away from something not only I’m addicted to but in love with. I can’t just stand up and leave without the magnetic pull taking me back. I couldn’t just forget something so beautiful, because an addict always relapses.
