Poetic failure

one: unsteady hands

His hands shake and it makes my heart ache. It hurts to watch him slowly and painfully leave me without fully doing so at the same time.

I want him to stay but time does as it pleases and decides when he leaves. I want to scream and cry I can't decide, all I know is it feels as if I can do nothing to change the damage done.

It will be ok I say but I'm a consistent liar proven everyday when I say he'll stay. I catch myself talking about him in past tense sometimes as if  he's already gone or I'm already preparing to lose him.

He can't even keep a Steady hand whilst holding a cigarette to his lips. His lungs give him his breaths and yet he coughs and chokes on air. He never has the ability to finish everything on his plate which is what I hate.

His main meal a day is a bottle of bourbon straight you can tell by his breath the stench of smoke and alcohol lingers in the air. He has smooth dark hands golden from baking in the sun, they always smell of cigarettes the thing that will most likely lead him to his death.

I wonder how old I'll be when he leaves me I'm more than positive I won't see him anymore by the age of thirty.

And before you call me harsh and horrid keep in mind that he is skin and bone I love him dearly but that does not change what is, is, no matter how hard it is to admit.

He does this to himself knowingly and aware and with that I'm left with a feeling of despair
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I hope you enjoyed this even though it's not exactly rainbows and unicorns i still hope you liked this chapter.
- 🌱

P.S i doubt anyone will even get this far in this book so yeah. Keep in mind this is from a while back so it's a bit shit.