Bitter Drops

The bottle's plastic cold

against my palm,

thick syrup coating

my tongue’s rough patch.

A small cup dents

half-filled with dark bitterness,

the smell sharp and sour,

not sweetness, never sweetness.

The medicine slides down raw,

two bitter gulps swallowed

against a cough that won't quit,

a taste I never outgrew,

lingering, unwelcome,

like a shadow in morning light.