There were times I couldn’t stop myself from going to him. I would tell myself to be strong and move on, but then end up in his arms before the end of the day. I couldn’t separate myself. I was addicted to his company. I needed him in my life. It didn’t matter what he did or all the tears he made me cry, I couldn’t get enough of him. I would turn off my phone so I couldn’t call him. I would close the door to my room and promise myself I wouldn’t open it. It didn’t matter what I did. My obsession with him was greater than any promise I made to myself. So I told my friends. I couldn’t keep myself from him, so I asked others to force me to stay away. It worked for a while, but as soon as they thought I was better and decided they could leave me, back I went. Right back to him. Again and again. And finally, he did something unforgivable. Something that made me never want to see him again. So, I didn’t. I couldn’t keep myself from him, but he could. Over the course of our relationship, he only ever did one good thing for me, and he didn’t even do it for me. He left. And it saved me.

3:00 a.m.

I want him.

My mind numbs away

as my body takes control.

Foretting all sense,

my feet walk to his door.

3:10 a.m.

He opens the door,

expecting me.

I would have left.

But I need the high.

I should know better than to leave.

Good thing he takes care of me.

3:11 a.m.

He puts it on the table.

I know what I need to do.

I strip my clothes away,

get on his body.

Payment.

3:30 a.m.

He tells me,

in a newfound sweet voice,

that the drugs are mine to take.

I reach for them,

but my mind turns back on.

3:31 a.m.

Not caring that I'll regret this in the future,

I spin and run out the door.

My body hurts.

I need the drugs.

But I keep running.

So do I really need them after all?