Free: Love Junkie Raw Work

Here is the truth without bandages: I have sold my peace for a text back. I have crawled through the wreckage of my own pride just to feel your heartbeat under my palm. This is not pretty. This is a mouthful of blood and honey. This is loving you so hard I forget to eat, forget to sleep, forget that I existed before you pulled me apart with your gentleness.

Just a pulse. Just a flame. Just me—unfixed, unfixed, unfixed— begging for one more hit of you.

No filter. No cure. No apology.

But here’s the punchline they don’t warn you about: I am not a hostage. I am a volunteer.

Call me junkie. I’ll wear the track marks of every fight, every make-up, every time you left and I still left the door unlocked. love junkie raw free

I walk into the fire with a match in each hand. I choose the crash. I choose the spiral. Because even the withdrawal—the shaking hands, the phantom limb of your laugh—feels more real than a safe, quiet, unloved life.

I don’t need a needle. I don’t need a glass pipe or a crumpled bill. I need your thumb tracing my clavicle at 3 a.m. I need the hit of your voice—hoarse, half-asleep, saying my name like a dare. Here is the truth without bandages: I have

They say addiction is a disease. Then give me the terminal kind. Let me chase the dragon of your first kiss forever. Let me overdose on the way you looked at me before we knew what to call this.