The cabinet door

cracked and 

the ochre bottles held contact 

with my eyes.

 

Like magic 

the bottles opened,

lined up

on the counter.

All i had to do 

was take them.

The misery, the aching, the loneliness;

would end. 

Closing my eyes and never enduring

the pain of them opening

again. The opportunity

coercing me.

My instant remedy.

 

Warmth greets my shoulders,

my body embraces

the security 

of my mother’s arms.

Tears swarm my face,

I roll back,

shifting my weight unto her. 

“This is not where it ends”.