I should write about you,

But my fingers are always shaking every time

I think about you

I can barely hold the pen

Without flickers of disappointment

I find myself writing cliché poems

confused every time the word love

Crosses my mind.

 

There are days I forget you.

On such days,

I go on my business happy until I catch a glass of wine,

then all the bits of me that I had once glued together so neatly,

start falling apart.


The thing about addictions,

is that they remind you of people who initiated you into them,

flinging open doors of memories that you had tucked away in the dusty parts of your heart.

 

Smoke creates images of your face,

reminds me of how I couldn’t stand it

but I so desperately want to stand beside you

 now I am left chasing the wind.

 

I had stopped drinking.

I tried to stay clean,

Until my longing for you

 

I wish you were here.

I should write about you,

and then, maybe I will stop drinking.

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