If his kiss is a painkiller,
Then I am on a Benadryl high.
It feels kind of like a fever
Whenever his hand slides up my thigh.
He tastes quite a lot like morphine;
I don’t want his love for me to end.
If my sickness means he’ll stay here,
I’m sure I will never want to mend.
His touch is something like codeine,
And I’m in need of another dose.
No one dare flush him from my veins;
This is pain that you can’t diagnose.