Poison Bottles

You break the bottle without a drop of alcohol staining the carpet

Laughs, giggles, smirks, dumb sentence follows your lips

Blood flow increases, my eyes narrow, clinched, ready

An act of a lifetime starts, swooping down to steal my anger

And like always I look the other way

And the next morning when I wake up alone

I ask myself

What’s worse, the fact she breaks wine bottles without a drop,

Or the fact that she’s so far gone?

Either way my carpet isn’t getting destroyed, but I am

Whether I know it or not, slowly, each drop, each sip…

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