Kamikaze

The taste of his cigarettes still clings to the back of my throat and reminds me constantly of what it's like to be wrapped in his arms. He leans in and kisses me with enough love to cover my entire body. I am his – curled close to him and mumbling opiate musings. We talk incessantly as we run our hands over each other: over and over. I trace your veins and you tell me stories of and each and every track. There's never a tone of worry in your voice even as you speak of Death and how quickly he is coming for you. And as you turn my face to you and kiss my forehead – fingertips pressed to my chest – I realize that I'm in love. I look into his eyes and am just consumed with passion. I am romancing his decay and turning myself into an object – an antidepressant created for only him to consume. He is everyone single one of my fantasies but there is no way to escape this impending tragedy that will come. At any moment the hawks of the law can swoop down to claim him and carry him away to their cages – without me. He brushes his fingers through my hair as if to calm my ever growing anxiety. I feel the pain behind his kisses and understand just how sad he truly is. His entire face glows when he sees me and the amount with which he loves me teaches me to love myself. He disappears to binge on drug and drink and my heart fades into a shadow of its former self. It is his fear that I won't hold him and keep him and claim him as mine that drives him to disappear. He has become everything to me and I've put all my chips in one place. I will let myself drown with him if he doesn't want me to be his savior.