You are the medicine that soothes,
Using you like a drug,
Can’t stop taking,
Doesn’t get better,
Keeps needing more.
Won’t overdose, too careful about that,
Just enough to soothe, dull the pain.
Seems to be getting better, looking hopeful,
Then regresses, back to status quo.
Clearly an addict, and you are the fix,
Using you as a panacea.
You don’t realize it for a while.
Then, one day, you do.
You are their medicine chest.
They open you up, admire what they see,
Take you off the shelf,
Take what they need from you,
Hold you in the palm of their hand,
Swallow you up.
Put you back, close the door.
Shut you out.
Shut you out of their life,
Until they need another fix,
Until they need you again,
To confide in, to confer with,
To soothe, to make them feel better.
It becomes a vicious cycle,
Needed, then discarded,
Over and again,
Used up, like an empty medicine bottle.
Used up, tossed in the trash bin.
When your medicine no longer soothes,
A new drug will be found to replace you,
Will take your place on the shelf.
The cycle continues,
A new fix to soothe the addiction.
Lynn Martin McHale June 6, 2017 Copyright All Rights Reserved Revised April 6, 2018