Mar 25
249 Drafts
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Lately, I've heard love compared to drugs.
A chemical explosion in your cortex,
Just lights that flicker out.
And they always flicker out,
That is repeatedly stated.
I've learned that love cannot save me.
It cannot reverse the clock and rip my innocence back,
It cannot resurrect the dead
And as someone who has dabbled in both,
I'd have to argue that
While I've clawed at my skin
Desperate for the bitter taste,
I'm not sure it compares to that sinking loss
Of connection.
Expectations, I suppose,
That's the root of it all.
I never expected, shivering and sweaty,
Those drugs would save me-
But you?
I thought you hung the moon.
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