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 warm to the touch, almost alive. Like it too was mourning a loss. A could have been. It’s squandered prime.

If only he hadn’t been there. Forcing my eye. Robbing me of my pretence. Of my eye that I could no longer turn blind.

If only he had shown me a little more mercy, I might have shown him some in return.