I wake up in the middle of the night smelling the cherry blossoms that once left your skin. My brain has embedded this smell and whenever I get a hint of it anywhere your names crosses my mind, and most often than not it’s frequent.

I think of the way your skin looked -under the dim light as we lay naked in the living area after ***.

The taste of your skin is still fresh on my tongue and I want it again and again, like a ******* cigarette.

You’re the addiction I can’t get rid of like a ****** ****** I crave you and I get anxious whenever it feels like an eternity since my veins last felt your warmth course through my bloodstream.

You’re the numbness I would rather feel than the oblivion that awaits when the day comes and I no longer have a vice. And you a grip on me and my soul.