Now it’s stuck in my throat.
It was just a sip, the first one, the sweet one, abruptly removed.
Violet drops fell down, I felt it, I knew it, just enough to know how exquisite it was.
Drunk and numb, my arms are stiff, my back grows tenser and a weight falls into my stomach. Time sprouted it, time let it grow and now it chills and withers, then refreshes and warms.
It was just a sip, enough color to blind the sight and turn off the brain. Burnt, frozen, torn apart, instants make it fade and grow again.
Striking images, I can’t swallow, I couldn’t take it, I can’t take it.
Welling up, bitter aftertaste, reminds me of sweetness, numbness and absence.
Crystals that fade and opaque brightness, shedding, paralyzing.
It’s still stuck in my throat, violet drops and cold lungs, nectar untarnished, yet solidified.
Close and out of reach, the vial, violet vial.
(I know, el coso ese podría estar mejor, pero es el mejorcito que encontré)