The prompt was to convince someone to give up an addiction, but I kind of played with the prompt.
Heroes (or Heroin’s Needle)
I begged this fight before.
My words coming out
as puffs of air against a window.
(You can’t hear when you aren’t listening.)
I found syringes hiding
behind the bathroom toilet.
You stay out late at night,
and when you come home,
your eyes barely stay open.
You try to explain,
“It’s like playing with fire.
There’s an electricity
chasing through my veins.”
I don’t want the reasons.
Do you know what you’re doing?
You play with fire long enough
you’re sure to wind up head-to-toe
in third degree burns.
You steal money from me,
and when I go to ask why steal,
you give me this hurt expression.
(Your eyes go soft, and the blame unzips
from my lips.)
Drugs change you and misshape you.
They take my heart and squeeze the love out.
Wring me dry and leave me desperate,
wishing you would come back to me.
My tears fall on empty ears.
My pleas are ignored.
You just need a fix
And I’m not the one fixing anymore,
and I’m not the one finding syringes
behind bathroom toilets anymore.
I gave you up like an addiction
I struggled to quit.
I wrote this one as a joke dedicated to my boyfriend and his love for television.
The Silver Screen
Before I met you, the television was on
once a week maybe.
It was an old wreck with rabbit ears,
just the basic shows.
I watched it mainly for movies.
Now we have a sixty-five inch monstrosity.
I hear the voices of these actors.
I know all these shows.
You tell me, “Baby, I’ll turn it off.
Let’s just have a quiet night.
You can read your short stories
and write your novels.”
I think Paula Deen and Guy Fieri
get more love than me.