Empty Bottles, Empty Hearts

November 11, 2016
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Wish I would have swallowed the words I vomited that day.  I told you I loved you and expected mutuality.  I’m not afraid of the future, you live and you learn.  I have grown acceptance of the things I have done and cannot change.  When I poured out my heart you wasted my words.  There I sat, vulnerable to the response you threw me.  I stayed drunk on your every action and emotion begging at the hands and knees of any possibility I would be granted the security code to your soul.  Just maybe, if I were lucky enough, we would share this world and all it has to offer.  You were my best friend and I wanted more. When I fell, you were my parachute.  When I was cold you were the ugly sweater your grandmother knitted for you, warm and safe.  My relationship with you was buried deep in confusion.  Liquor was the only love I’d ever known. To tell you? To hold it in? I deform in a life of regret for demolishing your friendly devotion. My life remains in a coveted sadness.  I’m going down and you are no longer my safety net.  Now, I survive at the beckon call of an unholy misery.  In an imbalance of faith and depression I sit.  Waiting for my life to become easier I morph myself into something I am not.  Someone who doesn’t have the one I need the most.  There’s an empty bottle rolling across my heart and you were the whiskey I inhaled like dying breath.  There isn’t a thing I can do.  At times I wonder who will help me hide from the pain, the long gone bitter truth.  Wish I would have swallowed the words I vomited that day

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