My addiction is not
to the drug that makes me high
or the wine, blood red
that flows through my veins
My addiction is
the space between your knees
your bow-legged walk
in your jeans.
My addiction is not
to the high that is the taste
of ice cream or chocolate
or mountains of candy
My addiction is
the anticipation of your face
your voice on the phone
your knock on my door.
My addiction is not
the taste of caffeine
or the air that I breathe
or the roof over my head
My addiction is
your back
as you walked away
from me.
Linda G. Hill 
Fantastic.
Thank you š
Ah lovely and moving.
Thank you, Oliana. š
Reblogged this on maha's place.
I read these starting at the end and working to the beginning and then went back the other way. Great in both directions.
Well isn’t that interesting! I’ll have to try reading it backwards myself. š Thanks, John!