“What is your necklace?”
Maria asks.
Such a loaded question,
for it is not a necklace at all.
It is a demon,
and I am possessed.
Fruit flavors tickle
my damaged taste buds;
nicotine still breaking through.
Constantly nauseous;
choking on the taste
of burnt cotton…
I cannot breathe
without this noose–
heavy around my neck.