Sometimes it’s as simple as a line from a familiar song, heard when you don’t expect it. That’s all it takes to trigger a memory, to send you back to where you know you shouldn’t go – but you go anyway.
Please welcome Amy Noble, who writes with such rich, authentic, emotion that her story almost leaves behind a trace, a taste of it’s very own.
Our romance was 100 proof.
It left the strongest of flavors on these lips. With the first sip I was hooked.
There was no stopping at two or three. Would it be safe to say that I ordered you? Or was it you that ordered me?
You were my drug of choice, and I yours.
This was not a romance that could be labeled traditional or casual. It was the kind that branded bare skin and left ashes in its wake from the slow burn.
We liked it.
We craved it.
We wanted more and took it freely.
Taking it as though our love had a limit and if we did not indulge in one another as much as possible we would surely stop breathing.
Once you have quenched your thirst with this type of love, any other drink from a loving cup seems weak, ordinary.
This was the stuff of poetry and legend.
A long pour to the rhythmic sounds of smooth jazz.
That was us.
I never wanted to give you up. I would have gladly spent my days wasted in the pools of our euphoric bliss.
I remember the last time I saw you. We held on like we knew it was over but never uttered fatal words.
I love you did however drip from our mouths like honey as we took in what turned out to be the last, sweet swallow.
I walked away, my back facing the one addiction I pretended I could shake. I left your dark handsome form standing alone in the street. So bad for me yet so good.
How can I ever get clean of this?
My sweaty hand pressed against the car door glass as I drove away. I felt the rush even still. The palpable high that only your eyes could give.
Withdrawal is the worst.
It was months upon endless months trying to cleanse my body of what it craved. The substance that was you. The one thing my heart told me I needed and my mind told me to rid.
The yearning for one shot of our magnetism was at times unbearable. You’re still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can’t wear anymore.
Recovery from your potent taste is a tidal wave bringing me to my prayerful knees again and again.
How can I wage a war against the very battle I wish to succumb to?
I am addicted to you. The first stage is admitting you have a problem.
I have tasted your mind, savored your build and been submerged in your perfect storms.
I’ve felt the flood of sweet love fill my lungs. When we are drowning is often the only place we dare to breathe.
The want of you at times so loud, yet the only screams come from within. No one could hear me.
Can I ever cleanse myself of you, or will you haunt me to the grave. Will you be lying dormant like a delicious disease waiting to resurface when my weakest urges come calling?
All the while I convince myself of sobriety. I am healed. I am fully recovered. I need to be. I have to be. I want to be. But am I?
Are you somewhere right now, trying to recover from me?
I have been locked up with a fantasy. It is far past time to break from that which strangulates my reality. This caged bird needs to sing once more.
My palate has grown so used to savoring you. A little kiss of freedom is needed. I have forgotten how that tastes.
Will I ever forget the way your hands felt like thunder on my skin? No. Never. Why would I want to?
Each time my heart skips a beat, paralyzed with the longing for you I will remind myself being clean is my best choice.
Memories are often the best reminders of why we let go.
Your eyes no matter how mesmerizing have tied me down too long.
The steps are long.
The process is ongoing.
My will forever tested.
They say once an addict, always an addict.
Only time will tell. One day I hope to find who I am again without clinging to my strongest habit.
Hi! I am Amy Noble. I am 38 years old but possess a soul from another era. I am a child of God and unreliable in my own skin..Grateful for the strength He provides me and the life that He has afforded me. I have been journaling since childhood. To me, writing is as important to me as the air that I breathe. So I guess it is fair to say I was wired to this gift; this passion that essentially chose me. It longs to escape my heart and find its way to others through the empty page. My life so far has been a sweet, beautiful, often painful yet humbling journey full of unexpected experiences, love and loss. I have gained so much more than has been taken and I am grasping what tomorrow holds for me with outstretched arms. My hope is that my words inspire you, encourage, facilitate healing of hearts, challenge minds, and conjure feelings you may have buried. May I share a part of me with you? Would you sit with me over coffee through this screen and embrace your own journey with me? I would be honored. Let’s live the truth of our being together through the scripted word. Holding you near, Amy