Blurred Reality 

 The only pill hard to swallow

is one not taken with poison. 

I clench the pill between my teeth, 

wetting my lips with the burning liquid. 

These same lips of which still cannot utter 

his name. 


The intoxicant pushes the pill down my throat.

The same forceful push that landed me on the cold ground of his bedroom floor. 

Down my throat, I feel the pill sliding. 

The same throat that was desperately screaming for help.  

For mercy. 

For sympathy. 

For pity. 

The same throat that grew 

tired, sore, achy, and worn,

Just as my soul has become. 

The bottle says “do not take with alcohol” 

But my mind screams, “escape”. 

My vision of that night becomes blurred as 

the pill runs its course and 

it becomes the best sleep 

I’ve had since I met him. 


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