When it happens;

When her lip gloss leaves me sticky,

When her lashes brush my cheeks so perfectly violently,

When her tongue leaves my mouth begging to be filled again,

I feel it.

I feel her.

I feel the pull.

Again.

And again.

And again.

I fall.

I fall vulnerable.

I fall so far under her spell that

I can’t stop her until it’s too late;

Until her drug flows down my throat and seeps through my body until it reaches the one thing that she hasn’t yet taken from me:

My heart.

She is the poison

And I am already dead.