Potion

They say there's no such thing as magic

but this bottle knows better:

black label, liquid amber,

sealed with promises

I keep pouring down my throat.

It helps you forget

the sound of breaking glass,

how the silence after

made your chest a haunted house.

It summons ghosts

that wear your father's cologne,

your mother's humming,

the laughter you buried in 2012.

and demons too,

the ones that wear your face

and call you a coward.

It helps you sleep

like you quit breathing,

numbs the bruises before they bloom.

It tastes like kept apologies,

goes down like smooth-edged shame,

and settles into ribs

like it's paying rent

in cracked memories.

It'll have you seeing blue and red -

begging them for clarity.

You'll call it a ritual.

Some will call it a cure.

Lie to yourself and say

"just. one. more."

They say there's no such thing as magic

but this?

Watch

as I drink...

then...

disappear.

Participant's Poems