bitter pills

CW: non-consensual sex/rape.

They never tell you how good things can have a bad taste

The drink of life, of a lifesaving thing, of a –

Yes, Mom I’m taking it now — thing

An eternal white noise, a silence by the fireside,

The water stilling, finally,

and the slow rush knowing you’re moving the right direction.

They never tell you how good things can have a bad taste

How it spills across your tongue,

chemical and sharp as a raw edge of sheet metal.

The taste of it, in that hallway, at that party,

and that song you hate is playing, distorted and slow

You can’t remember a lot,

but you know when you swallow it fills you with nothing.

They never tell you how bad things can feel good

How it’s better – miles better – even

The wrong twist, unfeeling kiss, a grip too tight

And the sharpness in each movement

Remembering, even when you’re crying outside,

That the drink of life, of resurrection, of a —

Yes, Mom, I’ve taken it now – thing,

that’s that what you wanted in the first place.