Druggie

You.

I feel this sparkling void between you and me, just you and me. I feel the butterflies and fireworks, all at once in my knotting stomach, does that mean the butterflies were set to fire? I reach out to feel your arms around me, feel that tense muscle under my cold fingers, gently grazing your forearms. There is so much sparkling, so much fire, such intense feeling of you under my touch. Teeth marks, kisses and bruises all in a package called me. Does it feel like you got a discount? Does it feel like you got a great deal? As the seller I should say, you got the fucking best of me. The best deal ever.

But I won’t say that because I may be giving all of me to you, but you’re but giving a tenth. Because there has never been a druggie telling their dealer that they have had the best fucking deal ever, you don’t do that. You sell me this sparkling 5 hours times through the night where we both lie to each other and play pretend, hand in hand and your arms around me, and that feels good. For a second I will forget everything else, drown in the ecstasy of you, you, you and you. I smoke you, I breathe you, I consume you, yet I end up in flames, burning each and every time after, wanting and panting for more of you, your time, your energy, your attention. Please, please, please. How much for the next session?

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