Intoxication
He did not break me. He emptied me. Slowly. Like poison does.
He came in the season of bloom when the air was soft and the night was kind he said nothing — only smiled and that smile sank into my bones
I thought it was love. I was wrong. It was the first dose.
Each time a little closer each time he brought something new dreams, words, promises I thought he was mine
I did not notice when my sleep dissolved into his voice when food lost its taste when my own reflection felt like a stranger That is what intoxication does — first it gives you everything then it comes to collect
The door would knock at midnight no one there only his scent in the air and I would follow it without meaning to
I looked in the mirror — my face was the same but my eyes were empty something was hollowing me out slowly without a sound
He came the way he always did no knock, no shadow, no warning but this time he had no eyes only darkness and my name on his lips
I tried to run — my feet forgot how I tried to scream — my throat had nothing left he reached out and took my last dream with him
Now I am the one who comes at night to someone else’s door without knocking
And she thinks it is love. She is wrong. It is only the first dose.
This is haunting but beautifully written.
Just one suggestion.
You know there is a feature to publish in poetic style so that your line breaks remain as you intend.
The way that this is set out makes it slightly difficult to read because the lines and phrases are not broken up like a poem.
Oh, Safia, this is heavy. ...Heavy because you have an ability to imbue your words with such profound effect. You are STILL improving as a poet and as a writer and I would have not thought this of a writer/poet of your calibre.
But I wish this poem was not a reality, my friend. Sending love and light...