Love Junkie Raw Free [best] May 2026

It sounds like you’re asking for a piece of writing—perhaps a poem, a song lyric, or a raw journal entry—titled or themed around

I don’t need a needle. I don’t need a glass pipe or a crumpled bill. I need your thumb tracing my clavicle at 3 a.m. I need the hit of your voice—hoarse, half-asleep, saying my name like a dare.

So for now: Let me be raw. Let me be greedy. Let me be the love junkie who finally admits— the only chain I wear is the one I forged myself. And I call it devotion . love junkie raw free

Free means I can walk away. Free means I stay anyway.

They say addiction is a disease. Then give me the terminal kind. Let me chase the dragon of your first kiss forever. Let me overdose on the way you looked at me before we knew what to call this. It sounds like you’re asking for a piece

No filter. No cure. No apology.

I walk into the fire with a match in each hand. I choose the crash. I choose the spiral. Because even the withdrawal—the shaking hands, the phantom limb of your laugh—feels more real than a safe, quiet, unloved life. I need the hit of your voice—hoarse, half-asleep,

One day this will kill me. Or it won’t. Maybe I’ll wake up clean, indifferent, scrolling past your name without a tremor. That scares me more than the sickness.