Addiction

If self-esteem could be injected, 
I’d be in a halfway house,
sitting on the floor and writhing. 
If happiness could be downed, 
I’d be in an ambulance,
on my way to get my stomach pumped. 
If love could be smoked, 
I'd be a hospital bed,
waiting for my lungs to finally collapse.
If loneliness could be scraped from my skin, 
I'd be too raw to be able to hug you ever again.