Doctor Poison
sits by the bookends,
whispering
lies I want desperately
to be true.
“It will be better for you.”
Just one inhale,
a bittersweet smell
pretending to be
mint leaves.
Taste the sting,
and we’ll be calm, at ease.
As if quietude
were the only symptom to
his cure.
He doesn’t always
look the same,
different facades for days
when new maladies
escape my interiority
that’s begging for water
and nothing more.
But there’s an unquelled ache
in this gut forsaken
by his toxins.
So, then,
it’s one more drink.
Taste the sting,
something bitter like cherries
and unburied memories.
Fill my glass to the brim.
Repeat again and again
until the bookends
melt and he looks
like that one
almost I wanted
to love me. “Always.”
Somedays, he fades
in the busyness of time.
Yet, he’ll find
me in reflections,
venom seeping through my skin,
smiles that betray
our dependance, and a gaze
longing for water.
“It’s best we stay together.”
And I’ll stay until willpower
or something stronger
climbs from my subconscious,
daring to escape his
hold,
dead bolted
against the vitality
of living.
About the Creator
Sam Eliza Green
Wayward soul, who finds belonging in the eerie and bittersweet. Poetry, short stories, and epics. Stay a while if you're struggling to feel understood. There's a place for you here.
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Nice work
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