Fitting, isn't always what is craved.

I know you're right
and it all makes sense.
         I drink in your personality
and douse it with a splash of mine.
         They mix together perfectly.
Making a sweet concoction
like a glass of fine wine.

But there will always
be a part of me
dying for something
to clash.
Danger intrigues me,
and pulls me in.
           We don't slosh together
as expected;
           I am excited by the disturbance
of ingredients.
           My heart races thinking
of this harsh, breathtaking drink.
                         *****, if you will.

The wine is so convenient
and less risky.
The proper choice, and we all know it.
                          (I need this. But how do I know if it's worth it?)

This doesn't stop the craving inside me,
desperate -- for a hard drink.
                          *(Constantly in the back of my mind. Gravitating me back to my old ways.)