She fondles the syringe
As she was once fondled
By a lover long ago,
For this is her new love now.
The product of her first love
Gently moves within,
The product of her new love
Scars arms and thighs.
She feels a kick,
A struggle for life,
She forgets the past
As another is robbed of a future.
She sends her new love coursing her veins,
There is a treble, then nothing.
All is quiet as her night begins,
All is quiet, as an endless night begins.
A dark poem, a fantasy, but I’m sure the reality exists.