7 pm like clockwork
A row of tiny, flat pearl soldiers
Gulped whole
So the dissolving of chalk suffocates the belly
Not tongue

A dozen little tablets
Now down to fraternal twins
Dark circles the colour of a bruise
Now fade away to sand
Washed away by time and sea

Angry red streaks hiss over my skin
On my thighs, my sides, my *******
Now yawn gossamer tiger marks
Proof of my excess
My will to heal

Curling fingers over my proof
Eyes black as charcoal
Glint like the night
When the looking glass
Proudly catches a hint of a smile.