loving her was like a drug
a love infused trip
a pink and purple haze
of passion and lust
but also of tenderness
and ecstasy
loving her was a high
a low
a heavenly life
and a hellish death
I swore,
I died every time she kissed me
but every time she said
"I need you"
I was revived
she was addictive
like the best line
the best hit
the strongest drink
I couldn't get her out of my head
she latched herself to my brain
clinging there
as if her life depended on it
one day, I felt an emptiness in my chest—
I couldn't find my heart,
and thought I surely misplaced it;
then I knew
it was probably
laying somewhere in her bedroom
beside the last book she read
on top of the last painting she created
beating,
bleeding,
dying,
for her
