Write Our Wrongs

We wake up this morning in our bed, the night before still lingering on your breath. Mascara tears stain my cheeks. I remember last night perfectly. Heart breaking words spewed, once again. All directed towards me. I despise you. You roll over, and quickly realize something is wrong. "I'm so sorry honey," you say. But I know you're really not. How can you genuinely apologize when you don't know what you did? See, that's the problem with alcoholism. I'll always remember the pain and suffering. You don't have to.

She chose to walk alone, though others wondered why. She never looked before her, kept eyes cast upwards towards the sky. She had no humanly companions, no need for earthly things. She only wanted freedom, from what she felt were puppet strings. She longed to be a bird, that she might fly away. She pitied every blade of grass, where planted it would stay. She wished to be a flame, that brightly danced alone. She was jealous of the steam that made the air it's only home. Some say she wished to hard, Some say she wished to long. But they woke up one autumn day to find that she was gone. The trees, they say, stood witness. The sky refused to tell. But those who had seen it say the story played out well. She spread her arms before her, breathed in the break of dawn. She let go of all she had, and then... ....she was gone.

It eats me from the inside out. Sometimes I can feel it munching away at my guts. Other times, it's dining on my chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. Guilt from all the horrible things I've done. For all the unspeakable things I am doing. And for all the inevitable disasters to come. Forgive me, I say. Please, just let it all be okay. But somehow, I never learn. I continue to walk across burning coals, convincing myself this time I wont burn the soles of my feet. But the pain always follows, leaving me unable to walk. Just a crumpled mess lying on the ground crying and asking myself, "Why?"