My vision shook when we were near,
You were my most pure form of high,
Your kiss my chosen bliss.

But  each good high comes with withdrawal,
Needing more and more for that ecstasy,
Needing more and more of you.

The day you left,
I began to search for my highs in other places,
From your eyes to a needle,
From your lips to a dime bag.

You ruined me,
But I like to think,
That I ruined you,
Too.