Cravings

Cravings: So little, so quaint. Haunting, burning. Wanting and needing through the day and night. 2 A.M. come my demons. Racing through my blood, heart pounding, skin itching. My ears ring from the thudding in my pulse growing rapidly. Tears and anguished cries leave my unamended, tired body. I can't, I won't. Refusal is my enemy, the crave is my friend. Pushing, fighting is all I do. I lay there at 4 A.M. with the thoughts burning a hole in the back of my mind. I fought my battle, so I die down, along with the crave of my most forbidden wanting. It must be forsaken.