The Sinners Poem by Ella Lazaare

The way his skin felt against mine
I knew it was wrong but who was I
To deny that his touch was divine?
That this was what kept me alive?

Warm lips, hands on hips
Dopamine like IV drips
Addictive, delightful
Melancholy, spiteful

Couldn't bear to walk away
Couldn't imagine a life where he didn't stay
All it took was a few words for him to say
Suddenly I knew it was my last day

Now my life has fled
No more spirit left in my head
Empty, hollow, bitter instead
Don't think I can ever love again