Sterile dark walls stare at me.
She’s taken the prints of Monet.
The old recliner offers no comfort;
the abyss in my stomach makes me
nauseas. My thoughts are hollow.
The fight was brutal and ugly. She
had every reason to leave. What
sinister specters hide in the minds
dark corners that drive you to
say the cruelest things?
There were so many good times.
Two kids riding life’s merry-go-round.
Laughing and loving, where did it
all come unraveled.
I wipe a single tear from my cheek.
My eyes close and my lower lip
trembles. Visions of her face
flood my mind. I’ll pour myself
another stiff one. I’ll kill the pain
by hiding in that bottle.