His Kiss Was My Addiction, His Love Was My Rehab
His kiss was like the flame used to light the end
of my cigarette
small, and hot,
but gone in three seconds.
The smoke fills my lungs and the asthma I had
takes over like his body did.
I can't breathe, and I take another drag because
the nicotine spills into me like
he did that time in the backseat of his car.
His kiss was like the small white pill I had to take
for the pain after I broke my leg in
three places.
I could have it every six hours, no more than
four times a day.
But one day, when the pain kept me up,
I took a fifth. And somehow a sixth and a
seventh slid down my throat.
I swear two days became one.
And after the eighth I was rushed to the hospital
to have my stomach pumped.
I stayed in a hospital bed for three weeks under
suicide watch.
His kiss is like the mouth of a beer bottle
small but open and whenever I tilt my head
the bitter taste of fermented hops
fogged my head and filled my belly.
After my fifth, when I thought I would finally forget
all I could think about was him
that night when someone had too much,
just like me,
and took their keys like a knife
and sliced right through that red light.
His kiss is like the blade that I used to
shave my legs with but now they kiss
my thighs just like he once did.
It hurt, just like when the skin was slowly parting
and it was hot like the red that spilled out
and it stung like the cold water and alcohol pads
I used to clean up the mess we had made.
It was like going to a pool party and wanting to wear
your new bikini but you had to wear pants instead
because I didn't want anyone to see the new
white dress I had taped around my wounds.
It itches like the scabs did for two weeks.
It leaves a scar, forever there, with my stretch marks.
When I finally fell asleep, all I could dream of was his kiss
but there was more with it.
I dreamt of his body and his mind and when his soul
married mine, and his kiss was longer than three seconds,
and it tasted sweet because I could have it as many times
as I wanted and wear nothing around him like we loved
to do.
But the other reason I dreamt of all this, was because
I never woke up
again.
of my cigarette
small, and hot,
but gone in three seconds.
The smoke fills my lungs and the asthma I had
takes over like his body did.
I can't breathe, and I take another drag because
the nicotine spills into me like
he did that time in the backseat of his car.
His kiss was like the small white pill I had to take
for the pain after I broke my leg in
three places.
I could have it every six hours, no more than
four times a day.
But one day, when the pain kept me up,
I took a fifth. And somehow a sixth and a
seventh slid down my throat.
I swear two days became one.
And after the eighth I was rushed to the hospital
to have my stomach pumped.
I stayed in a hospital bed for three weeks under
suicide watch.
His kiss is like the mouth of a beer bottle
small but open and whenever I tilt my head
the bitter taste of fermented hops
fogged my head and filled my belly.
After my fifth, when I thought I would finally forget
all I could think about was him
that night when someone had too much,
just like me,
and took their keys like a knife
and sliced right through that red light.
His kiss is like the blade that I used to
shave my legs with but now they kiss
my thighs just like he once did.
It hurt, just like when the skin was slowly parting
and it was hot like the red that spilled out
and it stung like the cold water and alcohol pads
I used to clean up the mess we had made.
It was like going to a pool party and wanting to wear
your new bikini but you had to wear pants instead
because I didn't want anyone to see the new
white dress I had taped around my wounds.
It itches like the scabs did for two weeks.
It leaves a scar, forever there, with my stretch marks.
When I finally fell asleep, all I could dream of was his kiss
but there was more with it.
I dreamt of his body and his mind and when his soul
married mine, and his kiss was longer than three seconds,
and it tasted sweet because I could have it as many times
as I wanted and wear nothing around him like we loved
to do.
But the other reason I dreamt of all this, was because
I never woke up
again.