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The Cocaine Girl
The Cocaine Girl
She was to me what cocaine is to an addict. An undying need. Pleasurable at first sight and taste and touch, but slowly killing me inside. She was like a drink, a poisonous drink that I had to have, only to realize too late the bitterness of the fruit it possessed after every sip, but still tilting forward to torture myself more.
It was a game between us. A game I had long since learned she was playing, but was too addicted and stupid to call game over. It was a challenge to her. She held a power over me like none other. She reeled me in, only to crush me to bits and throw me away again.
When we were together, I was drunk with power. The power to make her submit to me, my wants, my needs. The power to see her squirm beneath me, begging me to end the torture. It was the only time I gained the upper hand. In the darkness of the night, between the sheets of our bed, she was mine, and mine alone. Mine to taunt and tease. I took her to ends of the earth, and then quickly backed down and started all over again. It was my revenge for the way she treated me.
Soon after, I tired of her games-but as I said before, she was my cocaine. She always knew how to pull me back in like only a dealer knows how. She knew what words to say, what buttons to push to get me crawling back to her on my knees. Even though I took an interest in another, I could not bring myself to cut the addiction loose. I was hungry for her taste, her scent. Hungry to feel the power she had, and the weakness in me to yield to it.
She would make me angry, yell and shout. I would tell her exactly what I thought of her, even that I should never speak to her again. Weeks would go by in agony, and then suddenly, she would be there again. With the right words, the right buttons, and the right amount of affection. My dealer.
Copyright 2007 LJ Rodriguez
I liked your cocaine addiction metaphor. I've never had anything but prescribed drugs of which I haven't been addicted. However, from my nonexperienced point of view the comparison still seemed very effective. I've been (and still am) addicted to some very poisonous people too. But since it's a passion that makes me feel alive and inspires me, is it such a bad thing? It was an interesting poem. I enjoyed it.