The Never Ending Hurt

Bottles shattered, rooms ruined,

forgetful memories formed.

The last hidden bottle of “water” is drunk.

Fifteen minutes later and I see you

passed out on the couch.

The hurt is the same,

just a new lost day and a new excuse.

I’m sorry.

This won’t happen again.

I’ve learned.

Shut up.

The pain is a never ending

black hole.

One day, you’re here

and the next, gone for a month,

never even heard from.

One day, you’re my whole existence

and the next, a monster,

never wanted to be seen again.

The bottle opens and miserable memories

spill out, reminding me of the monster

you have become.

The hurt is the same,

but I am now accustomed to your cycle.

Will you be here tomorrow?

I don’t know

I don’t care.