The addict in the bathroom by Carolyn Batcheler

I am not a silent poet

She shot up as I pissed
I paid 30 pence for the privilege
She paid with her life story
It was motivation need for us both

I didn’t expect to see her
She didn’t give a flying fuck about me
We stood by the sinks
I dropped a tissue, she dropped a needle

Bound by our femininity
Drawn to the lady on the door
Smells of used tampons and cheap disinfectant
I left, turned,  never saw her again

Her choices were limited
I ran for the suburbs
I put 50 pence in the charity tin
She begged for the next fix


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