A girl is hiding,
Quivering in her closet
Smelling of stale marijuana
And spilt liquor.
The reminiscent scents
Fill her nostrils.
Sense of counterfeit happiness
Shoved aside.

Instead of trophies,
She has home-made bongs
Created from water bottles
Lining the walls.
The same water bottles
She once filled
With vodka and Redbull;
The shards of the mugs once filled
With Bailey’s and coffee.

Shoved in a corner
Is the bike from which
She took a nut
For the bowl of her pipe
Combined with some tubing.
She touches the calluses
On the tips of her fingers,
Remembering the numbness
That metal provided.

She quivers,
She shakes,
Her head pulses.
She curls into a ball and waits…

So this is withdrawal.