I met my true love in a room heavy with the heady scent of chamomile
Opium dreams swirled past her fingernails as she stretched out a hand to trace my cheek
A metal chair bit into my back as she stepped closer, red lips spreading past pearly teeth
She smelled of rust and roses, of copper dusted petals
She smelled of sin, of promises unspoken
I met my true love with my hands bound behind my back
I have never known fear like I did that day
An empty anticipation, an outstretched hand left untaken
I have never seen beauty like I did that day
As I watched her walk towards me, a polished bourbon silhouette
And she grinned at me, white teeth now cracked with rot
I met my true love high above stormy seas
Crimson skirts billowed around porcelain legs, fabric laced with liquid lullabies and indigo slumbers
She tasted the salty spray upon my blue-tinged cheeks, pressed her lips against my own
And enveloped my numb fingers in her warm embrace
whispering her name into my frostbitten ear
I met my true love as I lay on a polished wooden floor
Quiet tears tracked down my cheeks as I stared blankly up at her,
At her lips,
At her rotting teeth
There was no poetry
There were no flowers
There was only me, and the gentle creaking of the ceiling fan above
Just me, and the bottle of pills clutched loosely against my chest
Just me, and my one true love
Who kissed me goodnight as I lay on that cold wooden floor
And smiled warmly as I stood, wiped the tears from my face, replaced my pills upon the shelf
And told me she would see me next time
Before she disappeared.