Addicted

I’m addicted to feeling wanted. To the feeling of blood rushing into my ears when a certain song plays, the way my palms start sweating, the way it feels to take a shot of tequila and the liquid heat running through my veins. When he runs his hands through my hair and down my neck, I’m addicted.

That first drag off a Newport after drinking and dancing all night. Kissing strangers and sleeping late after a one night stand. Biting my lip when he grabs my face to pull me in for a few months of make up sex and broken promises. Smiling through the tears even though I knew it was all going to happen.

Waking up in a cold sweat, reaching for something that isn’t there. Crying into the sleeve of his hoodie that you still wear to bed every night just to feel something. Screen lighting up, “come over”, so you do. It’s almost meaningless now, but having someone in your bed is better than not having anyone so you continue. Addicted.

One sip, two sip, 3 shots, 4 more. Numb is all you feel until his tongue slides between your teeth and then you feel a little bit more than before. Back of a cab, tearing at clothes you can’t get off for another hour, passion for a little while.

Smoky hotel rooms, jumping on beds, music blaring, you don’t want it to end. Late night driving just because, pack after pack of cigarettes burned, swig swig out of the bottle, but none for me I’m driving. Addicted.

Eyes on mine, “shower with me”, of course I do. Going to the club, the beats hit your soul in a way nothing else ever will, a few drinks to get the mood going, bodies intertwining, arms around your neck, jumping, dancing, kissing, writhing, bliss. You made me feel alive, wanted, needed.

Tell me you love me, want me, can’t sleep without me, just so that I can waste my time a fraction more. For some reason I’m addicted to not being alone, vibing off the energy of other people, enjoying the fleeting feeling as long as I can. I can’t be upset as much as I’d like to be. I know all the signs, the answers to the questions, I just keep thinking the outcome will be different this time.

Addicted to the feeling of feeling. These days I don’t feel much of anything. So, come find me and pull me close and remind me.

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