The pills all traveled quickly down

with liquid cooling on my tongue.

My eyes glazed cold like tempered glass;

the embers cool, the fire dies.

A hole within an empty soul

provides my shell with no support,

and so I cave into myself;

an ache that won’t be satisfied.

A hush sets into the fine air.

The birds, they left me no remorse.

And so I lay, but cannot close

my red and tired aching eyes.

My leaves had fallen from the tops,

of trees that feel the winter cold.

How beautiful the leaves may be,

I still cannot be satisfied.