Apparently, I missed my morning pills (which include my prozac)
Everyday this week until today.
Last night, I was feeling so close to giving in, that
When I came home from my doctor's appointment, I downed half a bottle of brandy the moment I'd dropped my purse on the sideboard
Harm reduction
My doctor is doubling my dose
I suppose it would help more if I remember to take it
Yesterday was also my final session with a grief counselor
I was allotted eight
Eight forty-five minute sessions
Spread out over nine weeks
For the loss of my love
Of eighteen years
Yesterday was hard
I almost went looking for my cache
Today, so far is slightly easier; I don't trust it.
Sometimes the killer is inside the house
When mine gets bored, he stands over me with ultimatums:
Poetry or pills?
Be wary, I guess, if ever I go silent.
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