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deepundergroundpoetry.com

I saved his number in my phone as Methadone

 
He lectures me about  
impulse control  
as he
tenderly kisses
my stomach
 
watering with
his lips the
sickly green and  
purple blossoms
he planted there
 
I was too sore,
soul sick,
and hungover,
to run today
so I called him
 
for another fix
 
It was supposed to  
just take the edge off
while I detoxed
 
It was just supposed to  
take the  
edge  
off
 
But my fingers shake
as they run through his dark hair
and I vaguely wonder
if I might be  
 
hooked  
 
on the cure
Written by Betty
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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