I know what you are slowly
sipping through the green plastic straw
from that disposable cup, which is bearing the sign of an innocent Cola.
while you are nervously typing your prayers
on the cracked screen of your smartphone.
I hate to say, but your digital deity doesn’t listen,
you got the wrong email address.
every sip you’re taking is only soothing that dreary moment;
and I see the whites of your eyes rolling
back, while your brain is being relieved by the anesthesising poison.
I am tracing your exposed neck, yet my vision is blurred.
since I took my glasses off, afraid to be dosed by the sin of your skin
and the scales of your cracked lips.
despite being cautious,
I still got lost while searching for your invisible smile, which was wiped from your face by that poison.
that you’re hiding from me in the cardboard cup.