She is a quick
drug trip
for this
dopamine
addict.

She is a bad habit
that will only last
one or two moments
cause that frantic feeling
will fade just as fast.

She is awe inspiring,
poetry driving
to passionate madness,
that makes me restless
with desire,

but when that fire
expires
I will feel ill.

Not with her
but I will
be disturbed
by my inability
to settle into
a reality
of companionated affection,
instead of the elevated *******
of severe urgency,
that previously uncontrollable
necessity to be
with her.

Since, I have been
devouring
old romantic notions
I will feel like a failure
when my devotion
slowly simmers into
something soft-boiled,
because that is not
what I thought
love was supposed to do.