I quit pills the day you left me
on the stairwell.
"Not by choice." I hear you say
in my ear, in my phone, in my dreams.

I quit crying about you that day too.
By choice.
But your name is my favorite drug.
Not just the sound of it,
the way each syllable hits my veins
like whiskey fire, but the ritual of it.
The way it feels rolling across my tongue.