He was my drug.
Deadly and addictive.
No good for me, but i could never let it go, could never give it up.
when he was nowhere to be found i was fiending for him like a crackhead. But then whenever i got another hit I knew it wasn't worth it, i was just playing myself.
After the rejection came the withdrawal symptoms. Slowly but surely, my cravings for him increased, but then they peaked and over time they became less and less.
I no longer sat awake, crying, calling out for him. It was hard but i knew he wasn't what i needed, he was just a dirty, disgusting habit that i needed to be rid of and break free from.
He is now poisoning some other bitch's life, leaving track marks on her arms. She wakes up with the after effects of the come down, wishing she had never felt the touch of his love.
But he's no longer mine and no longer my problem. No longer my problem.
What goes around comes around, ain't that how the story goes?
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