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Reblogged from temporarymadnesstemporaryge-blog
Withdrawal.
I miss it.
I miss it like I miss running-
the searing pain
that races through capillaries
as feeble lungs gasp for
air.
I miss it like I miss sleep-
not having that drunken stupor
hang over like a thundercloud,
threatening to drop its load
at a moment’s notice.
I miss it like I miss you-
the rush
that comes with seeing
my reflection in your eyes and
the sound of my name in your throat.
I miss it because it hurts.
The pain was real.
(Source: sleeping-on-his-side-of-the-bed)
