I'm drunk on the very thoughts of what we could be, tripping on all the possibilities. I jones for our next encounter because I swear I can taste the next 50 years of my life on your tongue, trace my life on your palms and sync my heart beats with yours. And who could stand to be away from that for too long? This captivity is nothing short of wonderfully complex; some years ago, we've must've crossed paths, touched and became enamored almost immediately. We've must've laid in the love we made, claimed the addiction, and died two times over. There's no way you can kiss me like this and touch me like that, having not known me. My addiction, I claim you. You're just about the only thing I can call my own; I have no intentions of going cold turkey, no plans of shaking you. I'll keep you around to take me down and I'll become lifted on the traces you leave behind.