the dispenser
morgan lee

you told me i could just do this instead next time, right?
the cold brilliant water rushing down my throat, billowing against my tongue,
much better than the burn you gave me as I knelt against the bathroom sink.
the tubes extended down my nostrils and I knew I had to give it up.
that was the last time i listened to you, 
I chose self-preservation in a blink.

you left out that it was an act of self-defeat,
feeling like i was coming home merely made it sweet.
it started as an escape from someone i didn't recognize,
but as years went by and lovers turned mute 
you wanted me to capsize.

but what you said was somewhat true.
glass after glass i approached the big black box
and fill myself with washed out blue.
for one month i skipped lunch and dinner
and i didn't even realize
i did all that for you.

four gulps, one cup.
I lost count, though at least I'm eating now.
forgetting you existed, i downed one more sip,