It’s like getting my fix.
It’s my life drug,
the drug I choose.
He is my addiction.
I wait for the high.
His body, his lips, his touch
is the substance I can
            never resist.
I feel good with him.
Better than I could
     ever hope. Ever
                     dream.

His fingers against
my skin, like fire. His
lips on mine, on
       every inch, is a
     euphoria
like none other. But
with every high comes
a low- a crash. When
      I’m without him,
God, when he leaves
my stomach drops, my
head aches, my heart
finds itself in ruins.
When I can’t get my fix
I feel like I could cry, die,
sleep for a hundred years.
I wait for my next
opportunity, my next
   moment to
        indulge in him.
            Risk for him.

Because everyone knows
I’m not allowed to have him,
Not supposed to long for him
      Indulge in him,
           lust for him.
They tell me it’s not right,
harmful for my mind and
emotions. I don’t care.
I tell no one, sneak and
     lie for him,
     for me.

I am a thief, stealing
what doesn’t belong to me,
taking what isn’t mine,
borrowing what I did not
       ask for,

only to get my fix.