Your presence is the caffeine to kickstart my day.
Heightening my senses to hyper awareness,
keeping me alert and functioning to my fullest,
while grounding me and reducing my risk of parasuicide.
Your hugs and kisses are nicotine in their own right.
Seeping through my defenses undetected,
turning into a storm of endorphin and oxytocin,
becoming my source of comfort in dire times of need.
Your honesty is the only alcohol I ever needed.
Getting me intoxicated in unabashed candor,
admitting the skeletons in my closet and trading heartfelt confessions,
with such ease I wonder how I ever felt like keeping my cards close to my chest.
Your love is worse than cocaine.
Taking me to a state of unparalleled euphoria,
inducing psychosis over our very own fabric of reality,
decreasing my appetite for outside world and anything else that is not you.
But the happiness you brought is my personal brand of heroin.
Providing a sense of contentedness despite the weight on my shoulder,
with an afterglow of warm and fuzzy feeling that makes this life worth living,
because with you I found delight in all the simplest thing.
You, my dearest perfectionist who abhors routine, are my current fixation.
À la mort,
I’m working on keeping it on moderation, but it doesn’t change the fact that I, for better or worse, am addicted to you.