Stumbled on a broken branch one cool afternoon;
a branch that bore no thorns- but a prick that left scars
on my beautiful skin.
A branch i learned to caress as I became the fruit.
Through the storm and rainy days, i fed the green
and on sunny days, we made love to brighten the patches.
I knew the repercussions that came with it,
now lost through these concussions as i lie
on this hospital bed.
Past advice on the substance and effects
came to me like a reaping
as i cringed at my own inconsistencies.
The weakness i felt all over my body-
my flaky dry skin and lips- eyes that now faded
through the chills, i was distraught.
So, i stuffed and choked on the pills that
i thought would make me feel better.
Drug I thought would help me forget –
Whimpers in the dark, afraid of the
nakedness that bore through my skin
awakening a desire to be caressed,
cravings for a drug that became a scarcity.
A fleeting through moments of passion
recalled- for even as i screamed,
no one heard.
A pain i bore, through months of addiction.
A love that closed through the broken
branch now scattered in front of my house.
This man was the broken branch, an addiction
that now trails through the corridors of this
rehab facility- as i walk out free and better.