The bottle cracked us both wide open,
seven years of streets etched into skin.
She curled beside me in the dark,
a quiet hum, a hollowed-out hymn.
Her breath a ghost I didn’t know
was fading until it was gone.
Vodka soaked through the cracks,
liver groaning beneath her ribbed cage.
She never wanted the weight to lift,
said the burn was worth the fall.
I watched her stumble, clung beside her,
a mirror in every jagged sip.
Her family pleaded like wind on stone,
commitments, treatments, words—none stuck.
She fought them off and fought herself
until there was nothing left to lose.
Our bed became the final exit
I woke to find a silence deeper,
a silence that echoed my own thirst,
a silence that sobered me into grief.
She didn’t want sobriety, or light,
and I can still taste her choice.
-
Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: May 2nd, 2026 03:13
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson)
Offline)
Comments5
Gray your lines have grown in their poetic strength and I love them. A fave ,my friend
Thank You my friend I appreciate your positive thoughts on my work
My pleasure
A strong poem. Your poem reflects on the intimate and painful experiences shared between the poet and a woman battling addiction.
Wow, this is a heartbreaking story of what I'm gathering to be addiction. Powerful, moving and heavy. Takes a great deal of self to share if this is indeed your story. I will just say it resonates with me.
Thank You Katie
so powerful in its description and a fav
Thank You Norman
most welcome
In the past I've struggled with sobriety. Alcoholism runs in my family also. I enjoyed this relatable write.
- Syd
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