falling in love @rehab

falling in love at rehab

He had a little boy and a promise.
The ink on her neck told a story
she couldn’t keep to herself.

At night, he would toss and turn on
a bed of empty needles. The hunger

never went away—became cold
sweat with memory rings around

his shirt collar. She was a memory
with a candy necklace—color dissolving

sugar into collarbone and bony fingers.
Tips licked sugar away like denial—the

fire of addiction, two slow glowing
coals at the heart of her icy irises. A

photograph was framed—tattooed arms
held her night against his nicotine

breath. The smoke of smoldering,
shouldering the burden of being in love

with the love that kills. His baby boy
visited with Uncle of Ashes—each long

Kool drag, a crayon-colored letter. The
bluest pills were the ones swallowed

by distant eyes. A kindergarten snap
shot taped to the bathroom mirror. When

they were finally free—the baby, the ink,
and the man—then they could be a family.

She cradled the boy in his mirror, holding
nothing and everything back with the tiniest push.