you are addictive, but
I wouldn’t call you my drug.

you’re closer to
a bottle of strong liquor.


we all know that
drugs aren’t good for us.

that’s why you aren’t a drug.
your toxins aren’t obvious.
I didn’t realize that
you were poison.


you’re my drink, not my drug.
you felt so good at first.
you made me carefree
and warm and happy,
and you didn’t feel like
you were bad for me


...until I had too much.

The ground caves way as it lets me in.
Almost as if I was meant to be here in tangles of grass.
With the bugs
With the sun beaming down on my taught skin of age.
My ribs itch my skin
And my eyes watch clouds and stars until they dissolve with the beauty of it all.
The trees sing, and I listen with shriveled ears until I no longer listen.
I sink, and sink, and sink,
And then, can I finally sleep in peace.

You were burnt by the ashes of the polaroid
whose fire once kept you warm.