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.
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