He is addictive. Like a drug, he can make you go crazy with withdraw. The more you tried to stop, the harder you fell into his hands. I knew all that, and I was struggling to keep my mind clear, but I couldn't. All I wanted was to go running to his arms and lose myself in his touch. I should have known better, I should have never given in to temptation, I was hooked up bad since my first time we met.
The addiction began with his looks. He was beautiful. The first time I laid my eyes upon him I was dazzled. His golden silk hair, his sparkling blue eyes, his smooth porcelain skin. I would come every day to the same spot to try and catch a glimpse. The others had warned me not to get close to him, that I shouldn't try seeing him, but I couldn't help it, my day would only be considered good if I had managed to see him. In the especially good days I would be able to look at him for hours, I would lose myself in him. He was beautiful, he was perfect.
But it wasn't enough. Just seeing him was no longer satisfying me. I needed more. I needed something more from him. I needed to hear his voice. And that's when I first spoke to him. Such musical voice, it ringed in my ears like a clear bell. His words were spoken in such way that he was almost purring them. Every sound he made would make my body tremble and my face heat up. They warned me not to listen to him, to ignore his words, to avoid any kind of conversation. But I couldn't. It didn't matter what he was saying, I was craving for every sound coming from him. Every day I would come up with something to say to him, for some way to make him speak to me. I needed him to speak, to yell, to laugh, to scream, to tease, to sing, to make any sort of sound with that sweet voice of his. I would just stand there for hours listening to him like it was a melody.
And then I had the urge to touch him. I wanted to feel his skin against mine. To feel his touch. And in an almost accidental way, I got my wish. Our hand had brushed each other and it sent chills down on my spine. They started as innocent touches, I would find a way to touch him with ought him noticing. I guess he did notice those swift touches because soon enough he was also touching me. Others warned me once more to avoid it, not to let him touch me so carelessly, to make sure he kept to himself. But I couldn't, his touch was my new addiction, and each and every time I felt it, it made me crave for more. I made excuses to touch him, for him to touch me, anything was valid, rater it was a soft stoke, a painful fist, a gentle kiss, or a hard kick didn't matter. I just needed his touch.
Until I needed more. I needed him closer to me. I needed to feel more of him, to be close enough to smell his perfume. Others warnings would fall in deaf ears, I couldn't understand them yet. He smelled of roses, wine and candles. Such sweet aroma that was so uniquely his. I had started to recognize his scent from far away, and id let it guide me to him every time. I would find ways to lay my head on his shoulder so I could dive into his scent, to hold our body's close in attempts to make that wonderful smell rub on to me so that I would be able to smell him when I was alone. I tried and tried again to make his smell mine, but I could never achieve it.
And then, I could no longer hold back. I desperately lusted for him. His voice and touches alone were leaving me unfulfilled. I wanted more, I needed more. I wanted to be able to kiss those beautiful sinful lips, to let my fingers tangled in his soft golden hair, to suck and leave bite marks on his collarbone, to let my hands roam freely trough his perfect body, to be able to ravish him entirely. I wanted our bodies to be fully touching each other, I wanted to claim him as mine. Others gave their final warnings, they said that if I didn't back up now Id regret it. I didn't listen, and I soon found myself in his deep embrace. After all the time I spent with him he had learned how to read me perfectly. He knew what I wanted and what I needed and was eager to full fill my every need.
It was then, in his arms, that I felt the emptiness in my chest. In that single moment I realized how blind I had been. The full consequences of my actions had finally hit me. Not once had he spoken that he needed me. I had been the one always seeking him, I had been the one always initiating things, and worst of all, I had been the one with an addiction for him. I felt scared, sick, betrayed, I wanted to run away and never see him again. I had dug a hole from were I couldn't climb out. And it was my entire fault.
I stopped seeing him after that. I threw away everything I owned that reminded me of him, everything that had his scent or his touch on them. I avoided his presence at all costs, and when that was impossible I simply did my best to ignore him. The fact that he didn't even seem to notice me or my effort in distancing myself from him just made my resolve even greater. I was determined to be myself again with ought him in my life.
And then I felt it, I felt something inside of me burning. My chest ached, I couldn't breath, I had no strength of my own, and nothing I ate or drank satisfied me. I was in pain. I needed the pain to go away, but nothing I did helped, nothing made the pain go away. Before I realized it I found myself next to him, feeling his hands over my skin as I listened to him purring words in his sweet musical voice. And with every touch the burning inside of me weakened until it ceased. And soon all my pain had gone and there was only pleasure. He was the only thing I felt inside me.
In my head I was screaming for coming back to his arms, I hated myself for being so weak, but my body knew what it wanted and craved. It didn't matter what my mind had decided. Every time I tried to walk away my body would soon succumb to the pain. My mind would do its best to bear it all, to try to go past it, but it was unbearable. My legs would be running to him and my body would beg for his touch. And only after he had his way with my body would the physical pain go away, leaving me only with the mental one to deal with. I finally understood the warnings that had been generously given to me, and that I had so foolishly ignored. I could finally notice that I was not the only one who had been addicted to him. Each and every person who had warned me was an addict.
We had all been fools. We had fallen too deep into his trap before we realized it. And even now when we tried running away he knew we would come back. That was why he didn't care about us, he knew us better then we knew ourselves, he knew we would always come back to him, that we couldn't bare the pain with ought his touch, that he was a drug we couldn't get out of our systems. We were helpless when it came to him. It didn't matter what we said about him or how we treated him in front of others, he knew once alone we would be begging for him, doing anything he so desired to get our fix. It was humiliating.
Now I try to warn those that try to get close to him, those that just like me seem to have developed the first signs of the addiction that plagues so many of us. I try to make them open their eyes to what he really is before they fall into his hand, but just like I did they ignore those warnings. I feel sorry for them, for they innocence, for not knowing what they are in for. I feel angry at him, for seducing them in such ways, for ignoring my pleas to let them be, for not being satisfied in having only me. But most of all, I feel sorry for myself. Because as much as I want to hate and loath him for all that he's done to me and the others I simply can't, I fell in love with him too long ago to remember when, and I can only love him and crave him like the drug that he is.