Drugged

Love is a drug.

It’s addicting, it's like ecstasy, morphine, dopamine, and alcohol. Once you get your first taste, you never want to stop. This makes love a dangerous thing. 

It starts small, a brush of hands, maybe a hug. You build a tolerance, the rush you feel when they pull you close just isn't enough to give you that color in your cheeks, that rush of pure joy. Now you need more, kiss me, love me. You need love like you need air. Can't live,won't die. Would they miss me if I died? I need you. 

How can I live knowing I wasn't enough. You wanted more, I was young, low tolerance. Couldn't take the distance. I wanted the rush, it was new, I like it, still do. 

They say you never forget your first time. First bike ride, the first day of high school, the first time I said those three words and meant them to be for someone I could love, but didn't have to. Family doesn't count. Love should be earned. I guess I didn't earn it. 

Now is the withdrawal.

I can't take it.

It lasts forever.

Still hurts.

Perhaps it will never stop, and I will have a hole in my heart until I die. I don't want to hurt. Make it stop.

please.

It felt good, didn't you feel it? It was my first time, but not yours. I wasn’t special to you like you were to me. And maybe I'm drunk so what? 

I don't drink.

So maybe I'm high so what?

I don't smoke.

So maybe I've been seeing things so what?

I've never done acid.

Who says love isn't a drug?

Not me. It's my problem, not that you care, but it's eating me from the inside out.

 

Love is a drug

And I am in recovery

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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