"It wasn't love," I declared ,my fists clasped hard and my eyes stung with the tears I forced back, "it was an obsession" I spat the last word as if it was a curse, a poison, and in some kind of way it was, Emma was my curse, she was my poison, she was the best drug I ever took, the best high I ever had, but she was also the worst low I ever experienced.
"Stop" she whispered, she shook her head and tried to forget, forget the bad, forget the tears, the drama, the blood, the anger. She tried to forget everything and here I was, standing in front of her, demanding one thing- to remember.
"Wants became needs" I sighed and took one step closer to her, "When we were together.."
"You're walking on a very thin line," she warned me, her finger shaking as she pointed it at me and I just laughed, "there isn't a line we haven't already crossed" I replied, my voice raspy with the hours I spent on crying.
"You've become my addiction" I looked down and played with my fingers as I confessed, as I finally admitted it, not just to myself but to her. I stood in front of my drug and told her how weak she makes me, how standing here so close yet so far makes my cells burn with need, I longed to hold her, to smell her, to be hers.
"Withdrawal is a bitch" she chuckled as if she understood, as if she knew how my body shook without the warmth of her arms around me, as if she felt the needles in every cell of my body, the flames beneath my skin, all the ways my body punished me for giving up on her, as if she heard how I cried for her, for her blonde locks, her green orbs, her sweet smile, every single day. As if she loved me as much as I loved her.
"It was, but at least I'm clean" I looked at the ground, knowing that one glimpse at those forest eyes, one quirk of her pink lips was enough to make me cave.
"You are?" She stepped closer to me, her sweet vanilla scent surrounded me and I could hear my heart beating out of control, I prayed she couldn't.
"I am," my voice quivered and I forced myself to breathe, to ground myself, to remember "I think," she came closer, her hand rested on my cheek and she forced me to look at her, to look at glossy eyes, at torn features, and I realized, for the first time, I wasn't the only addict.
"We can't" I exhaled and closed my eyes, forcing every memory, every painful experience into my mind, every fight, every cry, every breakup we had.
"Because you're clean?" Her smile was so sad, so broken that I had to touch her, to comfort her, I lifted my palm and softly stroked her cheek as I said my last confession.
"No," I shook my head from side to side and my silky locks tickled her jaw, "because I'm an addict," I breathed against her pink lips.
And I remembered again and again and again.