The Cycle

a poem

When I first met you,

the simple touch of our hands,

grasping, and filling between my fingers

I felt like I was in a place 

a place contained with no dismay,

and place that I wanted to stay.

My mind had no reason to quit

It could be compared to heroin

like a drug addict getting his fix,

pumping his wrist with his happy s**t

like love in a syringe

I felt two souls poke at each-other,

condescendingly, looking for more

until it was too late.

When I first met you,

I never thought,

that solubility could turn into polarity

when love was supposed to be okay

and not something that will disappear

leaving you, waiting for the next alternative,

that will play your heart the same way.