It’s ironic how many times I say I’m fine,

because deep down I am shattered.

It’s ironic how many people like me,

because deep down I am an old blanket, worn and tattered.

It’s ironic how many compliments I get,

because deep down I hate them when I’m supposed to feel flattered.

The girl was dressed in hues of rosey pink.

These bright hues she had always worn before.

Her eyes were colored blue to match the sky.

The sky of delight made of many smiles.

The smiles that danced around her all night long.

The night she felt so free from all her doubts.

The doubts that roamed her mind so often it hurt.

Her doubts about her friends and how they are.

Her friends she loved, who left long ago.

The girl was loved and broke all in a day.

She is like fire,

so free,

so reckless.

Be careful with her.

She will draw you in,

only to burn you as you get close.

Her heat lingers on your skin,

reminding you of what you once had.

But you forgot to hold your breath,

losing her forever.

Xanax, Adderall, Fentanyl.

All lethal if taken excessively.

But the worst drug of all isn’t any of these.

In fact it is love.

Love is a silent killer,

masked by happiness and unfulfilled promises.

Caring too much for a person,

a person who will never look at you the same way.

This is what leads to people’s hearts to fall and break.

That’s why they call it heartbreak,

your heart falls and shatters into a million pieces.

Love isn’t something you have to ingest.

It isn’t something that you decide to take.

Love is addictive.