it's with weary eyes and a stutter on his quiet tongue, when he presses his palms against the kitchen counter and stares at me. i stand in the doorway of my darkened room and stop to listen to his pleads, with ears that twitch at every word he says.
" i have one month. it'll take one month to find a home for you both to stay at, and in that one month... "
my ears stops, relax. they know what he's going to say. almost close up in disgust and annoyance and sadness.
"...i'll change. "
but i've heard it, three times too many. the anger, the liquor and the smokes and the addiction he says he doesn't have; things he promised to leave behind him.
and i know, he's messed up too, he's been through many things; some too similar to things we are going through now. but relationships don't work like that. you can not just take and take and take and expect to receive.
" that's all you can try to do, " i reply, closing my door behind me. " even if you know it will end in vain , and with her walking out of your house. "
YOU ARE READING
nostrum
Poetry‣ nostrum noun { a medicine prepared by an unqualified person, especially one that is not considered effective } - = ≡ ___________ [ previously published as " pills and alcohol " ] ◂
