The Bottle (Day 365)

In the cabinet
behind the ordinary things,

it waits.

Glass,
clear and certain,
as if it had nothing to hide.

I take it down.
Turn it in my hand.

Unscrew the cap.

The smell rises—
not strong,
but enough.

Something in me answers.

It offers
what it has always offered:

ease,
a softening,
a brief correction
to the day.

I have believed this before.

I stand there
long enough
to remember.

Then I close it.

Tight.

Return it to the shelf,
back among the harmless objects.

Shut the door.

Nothing has changed,
except that it has not happened.

My hands are not steady.

This is how it is now—
not a decision once,

but a series of refusals.

For today
it stays there.

That is all.

Tomorrow
will ask again.