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Writer's pictureAmy Frank

The Sex Addict (Poetry)

Updated: Feb 5

Eyes lock

yet I pull away my gaze

because I know the thoughts

inside of my head

and they’re not okay.


I feel like I’m starving

because I choose to abstain.

Seeing him makes me damp

and insane.

My desire telling me

that to taste him

will satisfy my hunger.

History stating,

that even if he slid his way

between my thighs

as we locked eyes;

even if we lost control

at the exact same time,

he won’t feel close enough.

I won’t be satisfied

because I can never get high enough.

Orgasms, drinks, lines —

I’ll walk away still starving,

no matter the feast

laid out before me,

consumed by my physical body,

because satisfaction

isn’t born

from these.


My values split apart —

Brain versus heart versus lust.

Seized by yearnings of the flesh

in opposition

to what I really want.

Every time I see him

I’m reminded that I’m an addict

while deep inside

my heart yearns

for so much more

than that.


I will not run.

I will face my shadow.

I will face my shame.

I will face my past.

I will face my pain.

I will face myself,

because I still believe

in romance.


Babies will die if they’re not held,

my love language is touch.

A sweet dog named Shadow

stopped to cuddle me

on my walk home

this morning.

Intuitively interrupting

my flow

as I wrote this poem

inside of my head

with each and every step

I took away

from him.


I believe in romantic love —

A connection of body and soul

that goes deeper than the mortal

flesh.

A touch that will provide

both sustenance

and nourishment.

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