withdrawal

I miss the rush-
the floating illusion
the delicate wings
that grow and disappear
and emerge again
to fade again.
the breathing in
of gray heat
the breathing out
of a pure, white lie
I miss the allure
the feeling of power
that comes from
holding your life
in two fingers-
before you toss another piece of it away.
I miss the draw
and the pull
the ache
and the burn-
the euphoric accomplishment
of cheating death
once more.