Junkie

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You said I was your drug of choice
As if my grinded bones weren’t enough lines to get high of
You lit us up into flames,
Smoked the ends of me
Like I was the last blunt you'd wrap your lips around,
Bent my spine like a child would assemble paper airplanes
Knowing that the law of physics would stop us mid-flight
Despite the time you spent perfecting my wings rather than being the wind beneath them,
You were always the inspiration in my poems,
And I,
Your angel dust,
Your faithful white widow,
One pull and you were engaged to the numbness,
Hopelessly devoted to the poetic lines that inked your bloodstream,
You became apart of me so leaving was something I never thought you'd do,
And like a fatherless daughter I blamed every good man that has followed you,
Like cat and mouse we've created a never-ending cycle of abuse,
The difference here is I allowed myself to be your prey,
My mother is the strongest person I know submission isn't apart of my DNA,
But I loved you anyway
In ways I promised myself never to love again,
Held on to the rhythm of your chest like it was my own flower bed of disappointments,
Memorized the beating of your heart for the same reason a child remembers their address
So that they can always find their way back home,
And somehow I associated the concave space in your arms as
A place I owned,
All highs are temporary
Even me,
But something still told me you'd forever be my junkie,
So I got comfortable with you using me
Whenever the weight of the world became too heavy for your shoulders to carry,
You'd sniff a line or two to soften the blows of reality,
I never intended to be your substance of choice,
But somewhere along the line of loving you
I learned to fill that void,
So you promised me you'd stay,
With a mouthful of lies and poetic wordplay,
I always said no man should have to pay for your mistakes
But they do,
Every time I shove someone's hands away with the excuse that it's "too soon,”
The truth is I am terrified of feeling this broken again,
So I've built a wall with the pigments of your imagination,
Because you're the only man I know that can make an entire life a tale of fiction,
You used to be my inspiration,
Everything I ever wanted in a man,
But I've come to realize that this pen in my hand is all I ever really had,
THIS is my addiction
And these lines are all I'll ever need
I prefer my ink-infested bloodstream
Than to be the fool you'd end up marrying.

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