A voice, a whisper; echoing endless
Petrification: caught again-guilty.
To trial, before jurors, spent breathless,
a judge of biased anonymity.
A gavel smashed, shattered into splinters
a gasp, an outcast, rendered a phantom.
And innocent of crime, cold and bitter,
I brood; I falter, I feel the symptoms.
There you are again, my addictive strain.
Haunting my move with watchful, wary eyes.
A course of healing poison through my veins,
Inject into me until I will die.
Remain, running through me, please be my high.
upon clouds, so numb, just let me fly.

No, I am not on drugs. I thought I should make that very clear. I don’t find any joy in drugs outside the ones that keep me alive, and even those bother me horribly. This is only a metaphor for the dangerous addiction of love. However, though compared to a drug (and I do believe it is one) it is the purest and most satisfactory of all narcotics. It can make all the problems in the world go away. It can put you on a high that, with a little luck, you may never come down from.


About Mattie J.

My name is Mattie J. Hamilton, and I am seventeen years old. I live in a cute little house in the country in Southern Indiana, and have lived there my entire life. I self-published two books of poetry a few years ago, but I much prefer writing fiction of poetry, journalism, or any other sort of writing. I'm somewhat new to the blogging world, and I may come off as a bit of an ameteur, but hey, I am an ameteur. Proud of it. After all, I'm just a kid, and I have plenty of time to learn.

6 responses »

  1. I’m in love with this line “Remain, running through me, please be my high.”
    Deeply described ! Thank you for sharing this.
    Please take a look at my blog and provide feedback ! 🙂

  2. This is amazing. The hardest thing about this ‘drug’ is the ‘coming clean’. Withdrawal feels like it can kill you. But as life goes on, we learn we wouldn’t have it any other way. Lovely poems here Mattie.

    • Thanks Melanie ^_^ (By the way, love your name). I’ve only ever been on the drugs when I needed morphine for the transplant and a couple other surgeries, but I know from even that experience that it’s a hard thing to let go of. Letting go of love’s drug is twenty-thousand times harder.

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