Each late night, I must remind myself your words are just that.
Just words.
They may hurt and burn and bleed and create scars but they don't mean anything.
You tell me, "It was a dark moment, I swear."
And I wonder if the Devil once told himself that too before he fell from Heaven.
Did he plead, "God, I didn't mean to, I still love you."
Because you say that now, but they say that when a person is intoxicated, the truth comes out.
Your mind becomes a tangled spaghetti.
Your words don't make sense.
You have trouble saying but your heart sees the truth.
It was an accident.
Just wine spilled on a carpet instead of down your throat.
I think you meant it.
I just wish you would stop covering for your lies.
Fire burns your tongue the same way your words rolled off and pierced my skin.
The lava that runs down your throat runs down my thighs and arms too.
It's hard to love an alcoholic.
And sometimes, your eyes look like the devil.
Sometimes, the look they give is so sharp, they cut through my veins.
It wasn't an accident.
You left me there without insurance that I'd stay alive.
What if I had died that day and the last thing you had said to me was, "Why would you do this to yourself? I don't want to deal with this right now."
But I'm telling you that I didn't do this to myself, i'm telling you that your claws did.
When will you realize that every organ in your body is a part of mine too?
Damaging your liver is damaging me.
Some mornings... I wake up and cry.
I don't like the blood that runs through my veins so I used to try and empty it out of me but you got tired of getting the floors cleaned and I got tired of trying but never getting you out of me.
So my aunt told me to love you.
And I've always loved you.
It's just so hard to show it when you push me so hard.
When it feels like my back is melting through the mattress and through the floor.
Trying to climb up through this hole you buried me in is no piece of cake because it's hard to forgive but it's even harder to love an alcoholic.
These scars are not just scars.
They're just stories.
They're collateral damage caused by life on a template.
I hope one day, you'll stop cracking jokes about them and you'll realize how much your actions have hurt me.
Because it's too hard to love an alcoholic.
