Remnants

I still have remnants of you in me, just like the morning after of the purest cocaine I've ever snorted. You unravelled me and have poured your deepest self just like dust and ravelled me again. You're stuck here just like an addict is stuck in a vicious cycle and I am also desperate: just like an addict on his way to buy his sweet powder. I want you in. I want you out. You're all over me, even in my bloodstream. Then you are out, but not really, not truly, not entirely: there are fragments among my blood and on my mind. It always appears on my skin in the way I bruise and on my bones whenever I die.