I think I’m addicted to you.

No, really — like gut-wrenching withdrawals

are hitting me soon
I think I’m addicted to you.

Because around you, there’s this hue.
Black. Then green, then violet, then blue.
and at the center of red,

thick, deep, rich, flawless you.

but right now, I’m not around you.

I’m laying in bed, gasping for breath
I’m clutching my chest and I know -
I know that’s ridiculous.
You — I mean I — I mean, why?

Why is it when you’re around, 
my heart slows down, my head won’t pound?

Why do I forget Xanax when
I’ve got you near, at arm’s length?

How does that smirk and that knowing tone 
make me feel completely, and not at all, alone?

How is every word you speak true
the second it leaves your tongue?
How the fuck do you get off
being the only one?

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