Detox

You’ve made it impossible

for me to detox from you.

The taste of your lips, your skin

is not memory, it’s residue.

Permanent.

They’ve left a stain in me I cannot wash away,

laced with your chemicals of sweetness

honey on a blade,

a forbidden sugar melting on my tongue

your everlasting taste I cannot detox from.

Your lips infused

with a compound drawn directly from your soul.

This detox is meant to cleanse,

to release, to purge.

But how does one purge the edges

of a heart already etched with you?

I’m not seeking freedom;

I’m seeking survival from you.

My body may tremble,

but it does not resist. It remembers.

I still feel the weight of you,

the press of your hips against me,

the heat of your breath tracing the hollow of my chest,

fingertips sketching fire along my spine,

your mouth mapping forbidden,

private, sensitive territory across my skin.

I recall our rhythm,

our exquisite cadence

where desire became more a prayer,

and immersing myself in you felt like life.

I do not want freedom.

I want surrender.

Please.

I want to let desire carve me like a blade

to let obsession refine me

until I gleam with the echo of you.

You always knew

your intoxication was never meant to fade.

You always knew

you’d be the most permanent of them all.