when youre an addict and in love

youre the equivalent to the high i get from 5 shots of cough syrup and the weed wrapped in plastic wrap i keep in my bag

and the way your sweat drips from your back when you are done riding your bike to school is the way i want to slide down from your hug to your heart like cocaine to the brain
and i know you hate it when i do drugs
i hate it too, but thats a lie i always tell, that even you know is untrue
your father died from addiction and you think i might too

and i think i might, maybe, too.

but the process of me being dead with heroin needles in my arm is stunted by your breath on my neck
as we sleep in the same bed
little do you know i had xanax under my mattress hiding and during the whole time i feared would be smashed under the weight of our mass.
my brain is 50% you and 50% the residue of vomit in the sink
my bloodstream carries particles of guilt, and regret, and sorries but it comes out purple. like the lean i tried the night before our date.

i just now realized i have been talking about me too much.
i wonder how would you feel if i recited this poem to you
you might feel dirty and unhealthy and now know the answer to why i always say goodbye like i could be leaving the world the next minute
im so sorry i do this to myself
i don’t even know why i do this to myself

i love you, more than than the adderall i stole from my friend, or the empty pods in my dresser, or the store clerk who is secretly a drug dealer
more than the times i’ve ever gotten high, mixed into a custom drug that would fill me with euphoria every time i took a 10ml sip.
the ecstasy i have locked in my closet is nothing on the ecstasy you give me when you caress my cheek.
you are a safe haven, a rehab, a guardian angel.
and i hope to god you don’t find me dead on my desk in math class