I've been told heroin and meth
aren't the best cocktail.
Deadly, even.
But men like you have a
higher morbidity rate than grade A narcotics
and so far, I've survived.

The fever you left with me
has yet to turn my insides
from flesh to embers.
But I feel it stirring-
the slow, maddening burn for your presence.

And you'll give it to me
in bursts of bright, white light,
spontaneous and overpowering.

So intense that one of these days
my organs will turn from molten lava
to cold volcanic rock with the start of your ignition.
(I told you long ago you'd be the death of me.)
© ramblingneurotic