disabled.

disabled

my Henry was a drug addict.

He ate his little pills

i’d ask, “What is wrong with you?”

he’d say he was only ill

my Henry was a comic

funniest ever met

his silly laugh,

something I won’t forget

my Henry was a poet,

writing verses blue

although he did not graduate,

his soul ran deep and true

i loved my Henry,

stupid girl

i loved him…so i thought

 Henry?

he loved opioids 

And, for that,

i too was caught

A newly discovered dead man

exumed before my eyes,

thinking i found true love,

our hearts, woven

with his lies.

the mighty truth

swung its bat,

bashing through my skull,

leaving me the pieces

discolored.

jagged.

dull.

my eyelids were sewn shut

stitches ripped off fast.

acid burns my stomach now.

through my throat

no air can pass.

Tear banks, two heavyweights,

fighting for lifeless eyes,

draining all emotion

For, i’ve wept the thousand cries.

Here i sit, immobile.

limp. yellow. shell.

shackled by tears sobbed,

i’m drowning in his Hell!

Henry was lost to heroin.

On a sponge, set out to sea

And because i loved this addict,

disabled i will be.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author: 31 Main Street

Once upon a time, I was a happily married nursing student slash mother of three, documenting my schooling endeavors with a sense of humor. Life changed in three seconds. Now, I'm learning how to pick up the pieces, while managing grief and raising babies. Follow me on Social Media: Facebook: www.facebook.com/31MainStreet Instagram: @31mainstreet Twitter: @megglerock

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