It's unhealthy, I think.
Night after night
in the small hours
I am still awake
Thinking, hurting, writing
I intoxicate myself on you
your presence
I can only feel it
when I am not completely sane
when the crack in my mind widens
letting you in
embracing you
a mouth, lips parted
to meet yours
tongues dancing
I am kissing a phantom
in love with a memory
addicted to madness
to you
enough that I will raise ghosts
delude myself
I am the necromancer
in love with her own conjuration
when the night is done
I will have had my fix
and be on my not-so-merry way.
I think unhealthy
doesn't even begin to cover it.