One Last Drop Poem by Marie Joyce B. Negapatan

A century of drought
Hardly a single drop
Had put me into this misery
With no traces of hope

An absence that slithers
Down my desert throat
Like that of a cunning poison
Paralyzing every single nerve
With each tick of a clock

A dehydrated fool
Confined in a mental institution
Committing suicide is an honor
If a dropp of your expensive nature
Is what I get in return

In my dying seconds
Your sweetness relishes my tongue
Consuming this moment of intoxication
Lost in a bizaare of alcohol

And dying is such a bliss
If your one last drop
And my final breath
Collides into one sweet embrace.