Drug

It was ethereal.  The way her skin was pale and dotted with freckles.  The way her cheekbones stood out when she’d take drags on a joint.  The way her hair was curly, swiveling around and around in voluminous, intoxicatingly trippy waves.  If you stared at her took long, you became dizzy; if you tried to hunt out imperfections, you wouldn’t find them.  The blemishes and inconsistencies only made her seem more beautiful.  She wasn’t curvy; she had merely a silhouette of a shape, although the hint of her sexuality still shone through.  When she laughed, the heavens sang and it was contagious, my face lighting up at the sight of her happiness.  She got excited about things, passionate even.  She would talk fast and animatedly about things she discovered, things she learned.  She was a drug; one taste and you were hooked.  Forcing my mind into swirling patterns of confusion and rage.  Emotions spinning faster and faster until they all ran together, until my reds became blues and my blues became black.  She was hauntingly beautiful and effortlessly self destructive and despite my efforts, I could not quit her.

Author's Note

image: "Sacred and Profane Love" by Titan