Addicted...

I touch pen to paper and watch as the red ink bleeds.
My hand trembles with anticipation.
The sweet smell of roses overwhelms my senses.
I have waited for this moment.
Like a drug in my system.
I need it. I want it.
As the ink flows; I begin.
I purge my soul to you.
I feel my heart, beating its own tattoo in my ears.
I can't stop. I won't stop, until it's out of me.
Until I've cleansed my very being of all thought and emotion.
So then it is trapped there on the paper.
My pen tip is dry.
My ink bottle empty.
My fingers smeared with red.
My very essence is displayed for your viewing pleasure.
The quicker I seal it, the sooner I get my next fix.
I want to feel whole once more.
Even if only for a moment.
I need to read your sweet words again soon.

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