A restructure and rewrite in places following some sage advice.
....and this one isn't directly about me either :)

‘There is no feeling like the rush of endorphins,
leaving you hot, dizzy,
climbing the walls with passion
just because it feels so good.’
‘True’, he says,
‘and this was nothing like an endorphin rush,
no sweaty, steaming night of breathless passion for us, my dear.
I know your secret, under the cold exterior lies a frozen lake.
There is no warmth to be had there,
no warmth at all for a man with needs that are not yours.’
She hears him, marks the words
in some small corner of her mind but does not listen.
She is still, dancing in ecstasy, melting in the hot springs
of an exotic land far distant.
She will remain light-headed,
lost in her own rhythm, oblivious, unfeeling.


I know it cannot last.
The rush begins to fade a little.
The novelty palls;
I begin to wait
for
the
inevitable.
She is still dancing,
but now we both can see your face through the haze,
waiting for me.
You too know what is to come.
A pinprick, some perceived slight,
a plan that goes awry, is all it takes.
I emerge, hurtling out of control as we dive,
Sliding into self-pitying self-loathing.
I still lash out at you,
at anyone who comes too close
but now my movements seem sluggish.
I do not have the strength to hurt you.
I can see you, I know that you watch me
through tired, bleary eyes, wondering
If I will ever find equilibrium,
the balance
between the dance and the slough of despond.
I cannot answer that, my love,
I am too lost, trapped in the mire,
hating myself for hurting you but hurting you again
just the same.

Darkness clouds my view.
Cliched I know but, somehow,
that is precisely how I feel.
I must wait, wrapped in blackness,
patient, dormant until the next buzz
sends her clattering skywards
to dance again alone.