Love is a drug,
One perspective shifting trip,
Unknowingly stumbled upon.
Now you’re consciously falling.

For a splitting second,
You’re suspended in the rush,
A swift inhale,
Heavy eyelids-
Collapse shut in suspense.
One. Last. Relaxing, sigh-
It hits you.

Their tender embrace,
Exhilaration, tumbling acceleration,
Both induced by the physical materialisation-
Of the innate fear of falling.
Into this euphoric emotional high.

But you’re lip-locked,
By parallel supply,
And as you’re sober,
Intertwined fantasies die.

You pull away from the serenity,
Aware that the fleshly intoxication,
Of petal curved rose lips,
Allure you, enthral you,
Into natures sweetest demise.

An unavoidable temptation,
Where sober contemplation,
Plucks the petals of the fantasy-
Where the teethe thorns of reality,
Cut the addiction.
Leaving the scars of affection.
A bloody remembrance of dependent ties.