As I Wept

I ran away

from all my responsibilites

 

All i could see

were my inadequecies

my frailities

 

So i locked myself in a bottle

full throttle ahead

 

Wished i were dead

but instead it was he

 

Who lay there dying

on that hospital bed

 

I ran away from his beatings

I couldn't take it anymore

 

Now that he was dying

Why did I find myself crying

 

He was my husband

He was suppose to love me

 

I ran away

And I hid inside a bottle

 

When he died

I got so lost

 

He paid the ultimate price

The day he met with his demise

 

I tried to drink my troubles away

They just doubled as I strayed

 

I made him a promise I haven't yet kept

As I wept

 

That I would be an advocate for him and his friends

Until the day my life ends

 

You see he was afflicted

He was heroin addicted

 

She took his life

a slow painful suicide

I was just his wife

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[wizthom]

the best writes are the ones that shows us as every day people living every day life,
with the same needs and desires hopes and faith.
pain knows no race creed or color , the real closeness of the truths, how they touch us,
helps us to find closure
love knows no race creed or color,it is a feeling we wonder just where it came from,bursting up our right to ,,love the write love,,u will be alright .peace wizthom

[ganymeder]

How sad and tragic. I'm sorry for your pain.

You do a beautiful job of conveying emotion and heartbreak in this poem.

[Tony Hwilka]

Very well written

[Emily B]

You will keep your promise and more besides. You've already begun.

[Carole]

You speak of something that claims the lives of many: Drug Addiction and Alcoholism. I witnessed alcoholism all of my growing up years: I like how you put it-Comfort in the bottle-drinking your troubles away. Sadly those same problems stare us in the face the next morning, and the next, and the next...Then they're compounded because of the drinking.

I don't blame you for running, Deb. No woman deserves to be beaten. One of the best books I ever read on women who stay with their abusers is-Women Who Love Too Much, by Robin Norwood.

Blessings, Carole

[BrightEyes]

my cousin overdosed on heroin in 1997 at the age of 37. She was such a gifted musician and singer - and her addiction stole all her promise. Indeed a tragedy beyond measure. Your poetry on this subject flows and draws the reader into the story being told. nicely done.

[T]

Addiction wins in the end, as so often it does. Sad poem but well written.

[Gema]

Very strong and powerful words!
Very touching and a sad story.

Well done x

[T]

A very sad and heart touching poem .... hugs

[doreen cyr]

wow what a strong write
well done
doreen