The Apothecary

Be you poison or cure

Ill know not

Not until I take all of you

Not until I seek to defy these symptoms that I thought defined me

My evasiveness I saw as endearing

My stubbornness, a virtue of leaders

My loneliness a mere side effect 

But be you cure

And what shall I be 

I have been misdiagnosed 

Given medicine for symptoms I did not have

Given symptoms of which said medicine swore to protect me from

I was diagnosed too confident so I was given someone who knew not my worth to humble me 

I was diagnosed too trusting so I was prescribed extra strength deceit veiled in the flavor of a kiss I considered magic so it would be easier to take

I was diagnosed too beautiful and given life to draw out the ugly in me until my eyes found monsters once of legend, in reflection

I had no ailments

But due to the doctors’ orders now I suffer from

Low esteem because I don’t know myself well enough to include self in the diagnosis

Paranoia where everyone is serpent and all fruit offered I see ass forbidden

And amnesia because I have since forgotten what form beauty took in my image

Are you poison or cure

Be you cure

I will drink of your essence like babe to teat

Hold you like bible and preacher

Take more than the recommended dosage 

Addicted to your demeanor 

Overdosing on your love

There is no rehab for this feeling

Just as there is no treatment for the birds that dip their wings in the outline of heaven daily

But be you poison 

...either way I will be free of my symptoms