"Withdrawal"
Student:
I thought I could walk away.
Pretend it was just a moment,
just a mistake I could erase
with cold air and distraction.
But her absence carves into me.
Like she left a blade with a jeweled hilt lodged in my ribs
and twisted it smiling.
I stare at my phone.
I check the hallway.
I walk by her door and pretend I'm not waiting.
It's sick, isn't it?
To crave someone like a relapse.
She touched my hand once,
and now it aches for hers every time the wind brushes my skin.
She looked at me in class today
like nothing happened.
Like her tongue hadn't been in my mouth.
Like I didn't moan against her palm
when she kissed me like a question she already knew the answer to.
I'm falling.
I know it.
And the worst part?
I want her to catch me just to drop me again.
Teacher:
I haven't slept.
Not really. Not since the kiss.
Not since her lips opened like a wound and tasted like trouble.
She haunts me now
that girl. My student.
I close my eyes and I see her neck.
That soft little breath she took
right before she leaned closer,
as if she had power.
She doesn't.
I do.
But why does it feel like she owns me in return?
She's everywhere I turn
not physically, no.
Mentally.
In the space between my words,
in the heat behind my spine.
I saw her today.
She flinched when I said her name,
but her eyes
they stayed.
There was that same need.
And I almost pulled her aside.
Almost pushed her against the desk,
right there,
to finish what we started.
I didn't.
But I will.
Soon.
Student:
She doesn't text.
She doesn't call.
But when she walks into a room,
the oxygen changes.
I breathe her in before I see her.
My body reacts like I've taken something I shouldn't have.
And I want the overdose.
I tell myself I'm strong
that I can be around her without wanting to crawl into her lap
and beg for her attention.
But then she glances at me.
Just once.
And it's all ruined.
Every time she speaks,
my thighs tense.
Every time she writes on the board,
I picture her hand pulling my hair instead.
I dream of her voice
lower, darker, commanding.
She's the only thing that makes sense
when everything else is noise.
Teacher:
I watch her.
More than I should.
Less than I want.
She doesn't know I stood outside the library last night
because I knew she'd walk out around eight.
I just wanted to see her.
Just one glance to calm the storm.
But it only made it worse.
She looked so unaware,
so innocent still
but she wore my desire in the curve of her mouth.
She knows.
And it's driving me mad.
I'm not built for restraint.
Not when it comes to her.
Not when her scent lingers on my fingers
from one careless touch.
It's not enough.
I want her ruined.
I want her mine.
Student:
It's getting harder to focus.
I hear her voice and forget what day it is.
I see her hand brush her hair back
and feel jealous of every strand.
Is that crazy?
Am I crazy?
She kissed me once.
That's it.
But it was everything.
And now every breath I take feels like it belongs to her.
Teacher:
This is obsession.
But dressed in silk and secrets.
Wrapped in smiles and silence.
I want her too much.
And she doesn't even know how deeply I've planned.
Every step.
Every accidental touch.
It was all deliberate.
She thinks she's addicted to me.
But the truth?
I'm already drowning in her.