I can still taste the poison
that ran through my veins
that passed these willing lips,
still feel numb around the edges,
still feel the wicked draw
though it left a bitter taste
and made my body ache.
But the ache felt right
to this bruised and broken soul
what I truly deserved.
Oh, this foolish mind of mine
that misses the self inflicted pain,
that romanticizes the way
it felt upon my lips,
tasted on my tongue,
burned down my throat.
It's not the taste I miss
but the numbing of this too sensitive skin
that always had me coming back for more.
It's fangs sank so deep in me
I was sure it touched my soul
made all that was clean inside dirty,
something so much less than desirable.
There was no one there to pull out the venom
so I hid deep in the dark for awhile
as the shakes wracked my body
and the cold sweat dripped from my skin.
I survived that desperate night
where my stomach heaved
and my body burned,
made it through to stand on the other side
and I'll never let that poison touch my lips again.
It's the stand I have to make,
the stand I will make everyday
until my last breath gently floats away
simply glad it won't be torn from my body
I'll keep that poison at bay.