(Posted on The Writers Club)
She’s tossing and turning in sheets in a home we own;
the silence drags violence along defensive walls
framed with insecurity.
The portrait we paint with joyous smiles tickles
her frown to a half grin.
Regretful tears stream her cheeks,
calling me to hear the words of her addiction.
I love you.
(© 2022 AC)
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