Addict

poetry; Standalone

To anyone I look lost - 
Distraught with symptoms
Of withdrawal, every eye
Holding their guess at 
Which poison I picked,
What evil I welcomed to 
Let death slowly consume 
Me - bits and pieces - each 
Nibble slipping my shirt further 
Down my shoulder, skinless hip 
Bones holding onto sweatpants,
Trembling, shivering, screaming
To keep what remains of me clothed. 

To everyone I looked dead - 
Limping in slow motion, squinting  
To imagine where a needle should be,
Powder sitting above bleeding lips, 
Wondering what addiction derailed
The train of a young girl - how long
Until the train stopped moving entirely. 

To everybody I was gone - 
To me, you were the one 
Missing. No poison settled
Inside these veins except for
The infection of a broken heart, 
Only one drug inhaled -
Your scent slowly fading 
From the last clothes you 
Wore - the threads you left
Behind as payment for shattering
A soul. 

To the world, I was an addict
To me, I was in love
To you, I was nothing 
No needle. No snow. No rum. 
An addict and the poison? Love.