Broken Hearts

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I’m only having one drink tonight, she said
Just one bottle, one glass of wine
Then later, asking for white or red
She’d take a sip and then say she felt fine

The years went by, they kept on going
Kids off to college, grandchildren came
Her body grew weaker, her movement slowing
Every day sitting and watching, the same

It was no longer young being nurtured by old
Her children came to visit, trying to love her and care
Every day she refused, the same story she told
She didn’t need help, she was fine in her chair

One night, with a turn of terror – or grace
She was walking to bed, but fell to the floor
Bruises covered her arms, her legs, and her face
The damage seemed small, but soon proved to be more

It wasn’t bones that were broken, but hearts
What her children, her husband, and grandchildren had to see
Her temper was raging, her memory present in only parts
Not the person we knew and loved her to be

Now she lies in a hospital bed, confused and isolated
While surrounded by people and machines she doesn’t know
All those glasses of wine and liquor made her fated
For an ending so hazy, so painful, so slow

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