She had somehow managed to will herself into oblivion.
She refused to acknowledge that like a drug, Andrew had controlled her every thought, deed and action.
He was the centre of her world, the blurred distinction between day and night, right and wrong, love and lust.
One second away was one second too many. One moment in which she was deprived of his intoxicating scent, seemed to her like a millennium of agony.
She was falling.
She was falling hard.
She was happy, content, ecstatic even. Yet she was withering away, like vapour, like mist. She became an infant desperate for it's mother's kiss.
A kiss of assurance, of love, of trust maybe? But much to her demise, those things were not to be.
She craved his attention, ached for his touch, wallowed in his voice; an angel sent from above.
She was falling.
She was falling mad hard.
But, for her that was okay, because Andrew was her inevitable drug.
YOU ARE READING
Loving Andrew
Poetry❝ She gave him her all.❞ A memoir of the emotions that accompanied the moments of her life, those moments which she would give anything to relive, though they were the most painful she had ever experienced. © Loving Andrew2017 Written by xripthatgir...
