Narcotic Moments

Naked knees. Broken toes. How am I supposed to feel now. Were this world yours. This life your own?

Every cuticle assigned a color. A piece of the vase. Without roses. Or leaves of green. He knew I knew, but not how much. A child with one firefly in her jar trying to see. Watching it die as I wait for the sun.

I could match his indifference so well that I almost believed that was our connection.

My child. Myself. Spilling from my womb. A hemorrhage of trust. Pooling so blue under cover of flesh. And splintered bones.

What I have loved. What love has given me. So many drugs with a rainbow of arbitrary names. Liquid, pill and syrup. Friend, lover, enemy.

Regardless.

The dosage remains the same.