“Just one last time,” I whisper—then pretend,

As though a promise guarantees an end;

I reach again for something sweet and brief,

A borrowed hour disguised to look like relief.

It gathers me beneath its velvet haze,

And hushes every hurt for several days;

For one small while, the noise inside grows still,

And I mistake that silence for free will.

The mirror keeps the truths I leave unsaid—

These weighted eyes, these mornings filled with dread;

My trembling hands betray the calm I feign,

While every vow comes circling back again.

“Just one last time”—the phrase I know by heart,

A little lie that always plays its part;

And if my mother asks, just tell her when—

I’m sorry, Mom. I broke my word again.