we all become
hostage at times to love,
or love imagined.
to someone who isn't
who you thought they were.
it's a drug,
this sort of infatuation.
another hit,
another kiss,
or card,
or piece of chocolate.
in the beginning it's a high.
a true
level of strange
bliss.
but it never returns
when the mask slips.
you chase it. chase it.
but it's too late, you're
hooked.
a junkie to something
that doesn't exist.
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