just like a PILL

Jolting as I type, not of fear but love.

“Sometimes love is like taking a medicine. You grab a pill to make you better…”

This pill’s a paracetamol, orange, round.

Lying at my bed, vanishing the end that left. The same. I cry, tried to figure, shape, mold but it’s formless, shapeless, hopeless.

Move from side to side, wipe a tear from eye to eye. Painful.

Needs a paracetamol. A pill, someone… to get over this.

Went downstairs with aches of heart and head merged. Closer to the cabinet, chose what drug to take, the one that will, the one would ill, the other would kill.

Reached for the chosen bottle. A new battle. Drank a paracetamol, a pain reliever, a fever reducer. A rebound. Like a guy for the meantime mending heartaches, headaches of past fakes.

Opened the bottle. Gave one a chance.

Lifted a capsule, pulled, reached your waiting hand.

Held it. Swallowed it. Tastes… tasteless.

Pretended afterwards. Forced a smile. I’m better.

Makes me sick. Makes me ill. Hidden the pain.

I know this pill won’t make me better instantly. But if I keep drinking it every single day, with its right dosage and doses, I will be addicted. Maybe this pill would replace the effects of the past pill. Maybe he can erase you in my system. If I open up for a chance, yes this pill would make me better. One day, some day, he could cure up your medical malpractices… in me.

love, now and always,