Experiencing love is the greatest feeling that I have ever known.

But the deterioration of it has never been far.

From family to lovers it leaves me in the moments of happy, for which I am grateful.

But when it isn't what it was, I'm stuck,
without a map, and with lost bearings.

Caught in between feeling meaning, and knowing there is none.

Feeding fuel to the fire,
of use and abuse,
that we're told are fun.

Love is a drug.

The side effects are glee, security and madness.

And all are misleading.

At the end I'm left pleading, with myself.

Never to do it again.

Never to let myself, let myself.

But I do.

Because I'm addicted, to the love I almost had.