That glass piece,
fitting so perfectly
into my palm.
Smooth, cold, round,
holding my hand tighter than any ex-lover before.
That ginger kiss upon my lips,
sending smoke to hug my lungs.

Those IV bags dripping of happiness,
shooting euphoria through my bloodstream.

Anything to keep me from feeling numb.
Anything to prolong my inevitable fall,
back to my own personal purgatory.