Image credit: https://sha.org/bottle/morphology.htm
Words of promise
dripped from your rounded lip
so convincingly that I didn’t notice
the constriction of your throat
beneath a borrowed collar with satin finish.
Sticking your neck out,
you shouldered the blame,
but your body was too weak with need
to make you other than a heel.
You could have bought back the spoils of your theft,
thereby reversing the trend and reducing the hurt,
but instead you roamed the backstreets;
a base addict in search of his dealer.
Thought you had the bottle to clean up your mess,
thought regret would lead you to make amends —
but the seam is split, the glass is shattered,
and the myriad shards
have sliced our hearts.
The Daily Post #Bottle
©Jane Paterson Basil