I was overdosing on your sorrow,
Drunk on the ache that shaped your soul.
Every sigh, a bitter echo,
Pulling me deeper into the cold.

I want to high on your feelings,
Let them burn beneath my skin,
Set me floating past the ceiling,
A love so fierce, so paper-thin.

But love was never just a fever,
Or a high we chase in vain.
It lives between the quiet shivers—
A whisper soft, a sweet refrain.

©️ Beatriz Esmer