Junkie

I think I know how a drug addict feels, or an alcoholic: that constant ache for the next high, how everything pales in splendour when the needle pierces the skin, when the bottle touches the lips, and heaven seeps into the veins. I sit waiting for a whisper, anything, from her, just to remind myself that I’m still wanted, wanting to be wanted, and with each passing minute, all my thoughts focus on her, how good I feel with her, how alive! And with each moment passing in silence, the longing grows, gnaws; termites crawling up my leg, I brace for the bites, until I can bear it no more. I search for her, falling over myself, clumsy and needy and when I hear her voice, her reassuring words (I believe they’re reassuring, that they’re not just words)….. Bliss, heaven’s kiss on my cheek, her kiss, the sweet sweet agonizing memory of her kiss. For a fleeting, the world becomes bright and blue and gay, and it’s never enough. I want more, and no sooner than her warmth starts ebbing, I’m reunited with my harsh mistress: that constant ache for the next high, how everything pales in splendour, when her lips touch mine, when the needle of her affection pierces my heart and her beautiful pain seeps into my soul.

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