NurseSheGirl

I should know better by now.

I know the danger of things
that feel too good,
too fast,
too necessary.

I spend my days watching people
fight their way back from addictions,
listening to stories
about the first high,
the first rush,
the first moment they knew
they were already lost.

And every time,
I think of you.

Not because you destroy me.

But you live inside my thoughts
with the same relentless persistence.

A message from you
can ripple through hours that haven’t happened yet.

A smile from you
can lift something heavy
I didn’t even realize I was carrying.

The sound of your voice
travels through me
like warmth through cold veins.

And when you’re gone,
I notice.

God, how I notice.

The silence becomes louder.
The hours stretch longer.
Everything ordinary
loses a little of its color.

You are not my salvation.

I know that.

You are not a drug that can heal
the hollow places in me.
They belonged to my story
long before you arrived.

But craving you feels frighteningly similar
to the stories I’ve heard
from people chasing a feeling
they can never quite recreate.

One taste,
and nothing compares.

One moment,
and the memory follows me everywhere.

I tell myself I could walk away.
That I could be sensible.
That I could forget.

But then you laugh,
or touch my hand,
or look at me with those eyes….(my God those eyes) 
that make me feel
seen for a heartbeat longer
than anyone else ever has.

And my resolve collapses.

Because if desire has a withdrawal,
I think it sounds like your name
echoing through an ordinary afternoon.

And if longing has a heartbeat,
it beats somewhere beneath my ribs,
whispering the same impossible truth:

I was fine before you.

But nothing has felt quite the same since.