If only this world had shown me a little more mercy, I might have had some mercy to return.

I only the bottle, the acrid poison staining his lips, his tounge, his words. If only the bottle hadn’t been there. If only he hadnt run it dry. Like a vacant bed of a river, it scorned me. Mocked my want, my desperate need.

If only the bottle hadn’t been there, I might not have picked it up. Glass still ...