I wash my sheets of the kind scent that lingers between,
How I miss your touch.
I wash my hands clean of you on my skin,
The memories swimming in a pool of my mind.
The love that we feared was lost before gained,
Holding on would be madness in this age.
But the way you make me feel is like a rush of everything sweet running through my veins,
And exploding softly in my heart.
A personal drug…too pure for one to handle.
An addiction that has to be terminated immediately,
Before I lose myself.
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