Addie - Selective Poetry

loving an addict

Loving an addict means grieving a death that hasn’t happened yet.

 

This love becomes easily deniable to those around you.
But still, everyday you wake up expecting the news that their grave is already being shoveled
out.

Their headstone is being carved.
Brother, Son, Father.

A reminder of their presence was carried by the holidays.
A present under the tree that you didn’t expect.
Your little hands unwrapping a bright pink guitar.

Unfinished guitar lessons.
The strings all broke.
Little arms that never fit around the left-handed guitar that you tried to play with your right.

The next week, they were gone and the gift got donated.
You didn’t know how to play anyways.

Loving an addict means having a guitar, but not knowing how to play.

 

 

 

lover
I never thought of myself as a lover.
I try to think of myself as little as possible.

 

Perfectionist, an over critical person.
Someone driven by fear.

 

The lover title was thrown at me without preparation.
Like a brick, nailing me straight in the head.

 

Just as I would anything else,
I worked to perfect this title.

 

Yet, this was not driven by my desire to be a lover;
It was driven by my fear of not being loved.

 

Looking in the mirror,
The girl I used to be started to disappear.

 

She became a distorted version of myself.
Long, red scratches covering her skin.

 

Scraping, scratching, abrading;
If I could not be perfect, how could I be loved?

 

Perfection was not the answer,
That is a lesson I learned.

 

But still, sometimes, when I slip up,
The scratching comes back.