addict

She's that liquid ecstasy that courses through my veins. She's that extra puff of smoke that holds heavy in my lungs. She gives me wings and holds my head as I'm coming down. She makes colors brighter, hours last longer and food taste better. I hold her in my arms and she alters my judgement. But, all in all, she is a bad idea. She makes me think she'll never leave me, but just hours later I'm jonesing for another hit, a stronger high. I can't have her; she isn't mine, but I steal her away and we dance in the colors we create. she leaves me when I need her most, blood and body, and all I can think of is how to get her back. She's a habit I can't kick, but she's controlled me for too long. Her plum stained lips call to me and it takes all I have to turn and say, "not this time" - an answer she doesn't like. She works harder, beckoning me with her slender frame and her crimson red fingernails gliding up my arms. I give in to her calls, take her one last time. I'm not an addict, I can quit her anytime I want. But, I take her to my bed and inject her into my veins. She rushes through me. my breath tightens, my pulse quickens and my skin flushes pink. I fall asleep in her and when I wake she has left me, empty and alone. Again.