At times, I feel my cells starving
as you grasp me tighter.
The things you want me to hold
always wisp away at my fingertips.
I want them as badly as you.
For, if I clasp them,
your strangulation
turns
into embrace;
and blood fills my head and my heart.
My chemicals burst forth with joy,
like party poppers on the eve of a New Year,
and I am
doused with dopamine
confetti'd with catecholamines
soaked with serotonin.
Yet, you choke me of this relief.
Leave me.
Relinquish me to my own toil.
To reap what I choose to sow.