The love I felt for you
was like the love an addict has for drugs.
At first,
it felt like love.
It always does.
It was easy.
It felt safe.
You didn’t question it.
It didn’t happen overnight
it crept in,
quietly.
What once felt like comfort
began to take more
than it gave.
The choice was suddenly
ripped away from you.
It became something you needed,
something you craved
like an addict
craving their next hit.
I told myself it was love,
but love doesn’t take like that,
consuming everything
until nothing is left.
I hate you now
the way an addict hates
what they still crave.
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 1:45 PM UTC
The love I felt for you
was like the love an addict has for drugs.
At first,
it felt like love.
It always does.
It was easy.
It felt safe.
You didn’t question it.
It didn’t happen overnight
it crept in,
quietly.
What once felt like comfort
began to take more
than it gave.
The choice was suddenly
ripped away from you.
It became something you needed,
something you craved
like an addict
craving their next hit.
I told myself it was love,
but love doesn’t take like that,
consuming everything
until nothing is left.
I hate you now
the way an addict hates
what they still crave.
The third poem in my small series