Potion

I see the inescapable bitter potion

Inching towards me in an ominous motion

Spinning threads of lies

I weaved a picture of our blissful ties

Running on eggshells

I spend my days counting down,

to the day I was going to lose my crown,

to the day the universe hurls the potion down

Under the dangerous glow of false comforts

I was dead drunk on our sweet pain

Hoping the picture I desperately weaved 

would survive the bloodstains 

But before the end, 

Let me crawl back for another quick fix 

Let me add another band aid

Because what am I without my blade?