Intoxicant

The liquor burns my throat 
in the way being around you is painful.
I can't help but despise the feeling
but I'm always wanting more.
You're an intoxicant. 
You sway my emotions so easily,
make me swoon and smile hard,
like the consumption of the bottle.
The further I fall into you
the more I'm drunk on you.
You're bad for me, I know.
You don't even want me.
I wish you needed me.
I want you.
I need you.
It's a constant craving.
I have quick sips of you
rarely, on occasion,
and when I do it's a celebration
I hold in secrecy. 
I hide my inebriation as well as I can.
But sometimes I know
you can see it in my glossy eyes
(I wish you could smell you on my breath)
as I feel it straight to my bones
each time I'm with you.
You run through my veins.
You cloud my mind.
I have to have you until I don't
want you anymore.
But I'm not quite sure if that's possible
because of the addiction I have formed.
Even when I can't fathom another shot
or I'm suffering at 3AM from too much of you
"too much"
is never enough.