A Letter To You

Ghosting the back of my throat on lonely nights,

But even nicotine has begun to taste dull

Compared to the burn of wanting you.

I crave you the way I once craved cigarettes after sex,

That trembling need in the quiet afterward,

When skin is still warm and damp with affection,

And the body searches for one more comfort

To soften the unbearable tenderness of being known.

You call to me the way the bottle used to after hard days,

Like relief waiting patiently in the cabinet,

Like something amber and dangerous

Promising warmth behind the ribs.

Only you do it better.

You pour through me slower, sweeter,

Settling into every shaking corner of my nervous system

Until my pulse finally unclenches beneath your touch.

If it were possible,

I would gladly hospitalize myself

On the overconsumption of your kindness.

Let the doctors whisper about my condition

As I lie there ruined by your grace,

Heartbeat uneven from too many soft smiles,

Too many lingering glances,

Too much exposure to the way your voice

Wraps around my name like silk dragged over bare skin.

You were dangerous from the first use.

I knew it the moment you laughed near me

And something inside my chest misfired.

The moment your fingers brushed mine

And every nerve ending sparked awake

Like power lines humming in summer heat.

Now you exist in every small silence of my day.

After every meal,

During every red light on every drive,

In the steam curling from my tea,

In the cold side of the bed before sleep finds me.

I think of you constantly,

As naturally as breathing,

As involuntarily as a heartbeat.

And God, your smile,

Your smile feels chemical.

Something illicit and warm flooding straight to my bloodstream.

I could spend entire lifetimes chasing it,

Saying foolish things just to hear your laugh again,

Collecting those little sounds from you

Like desperate hands gathering loose pills from a countertop.

You’ve got me hooked in ways I never expected,

Worse than teenage addictions and reckless habits,

Because at least those only poisoned the body.

You undo me somewhere deeper.

I itch for you.

Not just your touch,

But your presence,

The subtle heat of your thigh against mine,

The static rush when your hand settles at the small of my back,

The feather-light sting of your breath near my ear

Sending shivers down my spine in careful waves.

You calm me the way old smoke and bong hits used to,

Only without the numbness.

You quiet the noise without dimming me.

You make the world softer around the edges

While somehow sharpening every sensation at once.

And maybe that is the cruelest part of loving you:

You are both the ache and the remedy.

The shaking hands and the thing they reach for.

The fire in my lungs