call it a drug Poem, by yours truly, at My poetic side

Under my salt-slicked skin,

In my shivering spine,

Your voice reverberates dirty promises,

Cloaked in saccharine sensations,

I call you my love-high,

Beneath sweat-stained sheets,

Above my shaking shape,

Your tongue languidly dragging through flesh,

Carving out shivering streams,

I call you my deep relief, my oxygen, my muse,

Below my soaked scalp,

Beyond shuddering shoulders,

Your body plastered into mine withdraws,

Crawling away sharp and slowly,

I called for more but you are spent,

Inside my shifting, sunken stomach,

In between the searing swarm,

Your vacancy leaving me sweltering and aching,

Collapsing in, mind spinning, swimming,

I call for more but you are gone,

I call you my savior,

They call you a drug

Comments +

Thomas W Case October 25th, 2023 02:43
Powerful write.
- Anonymous_PoetOctober 25th, 2023 15:55
  Many thanks 😊👍
MendedFences27 October 25th, 2023 16:22
The muse is a fickle beast, She/he/it comes on their own terms and leaves as quickly. We can beg/pray/demand their return but to no avail. This is the spastic life of a poet. "They call you a drug," sums it all up. Why else would we do this. Beautiful poetry. - Phil A.
- Anonymous_PoetOctober 25th, 2023 19:18
  thank you so much for reading!

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call it a drug