A

Drop

Of this

Would not

Harm. These

Tears could not

Match its thickness

And warmth. This crime

Brings cold days in summer.

This crime masks my forbidden

Hunger. Stale hearts bring the murder

To life. Gloom. Misery. So subtle. Sublime.

Trying to find a little larceny, stealing from my

Own. Stealing breaths that define my hopelessness.

These hands of mine died through the cold, glass vial.

Seeing life through its transparency, blurred and vague.

A sip could just be enough. Enough to feel every inch of

Pain left from this insidious realm of nothingness, to see

This pale skin wither away. Hearts widowed by time are

Soon to die, soon to drown in their crimson demise, in

Their chambers of cold blood. Trying to build a place

Where they could sleep. Where I could sleep.

For all that’s left is this cold empty vial

Holding the last drop of poison.

Dear but never close to

Anyone.