Give Me My Medication

Your skin of molten sugar once made music

Of broken violins: playing as no one could

Listen, here: your voice behind your neck

In two: that split from wood in front of you

Now plays that stiffened melody without

You as my remedy: to remember what

Was once my song: where these notes

Attempt but don’t belong: I wrote for you:

“You’re sweet,” you said, “However…

“You’ve long been dead. I must stop

Missing how you once made music

Of cheese and bread, pretending they

Were these faulty instruments just

To have me take my medication

I must stop seeing you. You’re not real.”