I feel you.
Somewhere near my
imagination’s metaphorical sacrum,
You travel up my spine until you reach the back of my
mind’s eye.
You stop there.
Unaware that my body is craving more you stay glued to my
irises until,
Tired of this, I push you past my tear ducts and you are
now rolling down…
Down…
Down.
I taste you in my mouth.
My tongue used to dance in anticipation of the sweet salivation of your kiss.
Now it resists.
It recoils at the bitter contaminate that is you,
But still your liquid germinates a dry and barren plain
That hasn’t seen the light of day since its first kiss;
It appreciates this.
You have permeated everything from the neck up. People
say in my head I’m sick, but…
We know better. It is only you,
Riding the waves of my brain,
Controlling the patterns of my thought,
Sending messages like twisted effigies causing my muscles
to do things they otherwise would not,
Like loosening up and allowing you to invade more than my
cranial passageways.
You are still stored on the back of my tongue,
Which cannot decide if it wants to swallow or spew.
Let’s not give it time to reject you–
Glide down my throat quickly.
Let me digest all the ways we went wrong.
My esophagus squeezes all the excuses
That time pleased to place in my brain
And adds the necessary acid to make them refrain from
torturing me.
Still I feel you inside of me.
My bodily functions dysfunctionally attempt to expel you
from my being.
I’m not used to being bought with sweet words that taste
like honey
Yet sour in my stomach. You are my acid reflux.
Your burn, which used to be a fire of inexperenced bodily
commotion
Now reaches my legs and tingles like sewing needles
Embroidering endless poems of, “I love you. I miss
you.” along delicate flesh.
My flesh scars easily. It tells the story of me.
The time I cut my head open when I was three.
The time I skinned my knee on my tricycle.
The time vanity put a curling iron burn on my arm.
The time You left a hole in my heart.
A perfect circle right in the middle filled with all the
ways you used to attract me.
But, tiny and wounded as it is, It still beats.
My clogged arteries resound with your memory
Pushing it from my cardiac muscle and out to my
extremities.
You circulate in me.
They told me I had a heart murmur and I agreed.
My heart murmurs to me all the things I would be better
off not knowing–
Like why you chose to steal my first kiss and put it on
her lips?
Why you didn’t realize sooner that you didn’t like the
way I tasted to your mind?
Why you still insist on being in my life when you’ve
tried so hard to leave it?
So many questions. When did love become as dangerous as
addiction?
I haven’t had a dose of you in so long I’m starting to
lose your taste
My body is rejecting you as it tries to maintain stasis.
Places that once longed for your touch recoil at the
thought of the
Ridges of your fingertips coming into contact with my
amenities.
I no longer want your dead skin cells near me.
It’s a sad kind of relief because this addiction was
my sweet
Companion and shooting you into my veins made me less
lonely.
I guess you could call this my withdrawl.
I thought you were supposed to miss addiction–
Sweat, hyperventilate, and writhe until your next fix,
Exult when you get that first taste of it.
I thought that I’d take you forever,
But you don’t do the trick anymore.
I overdosed on you and
Instead of the genuine excitement I used to posses
At every playful text and heartfelt comment
Now…
I’m bored.
