In the quiet corners of her life, she sits,a wife, bound by vows, yet fraying at the seams. Her heart a battleground where hope and despair meet,With his empty bottles, her silent screams.

Each morning, she rises to the echo of a popped can. She closes her eyes in a cringe. A symphony of sorrow, a melody of loss,She navigates the wreckage of their shared past.

Where once stood trust, now lies chaos. She is the keeper of secrets, the weaver of tears.To shield the world from what’s behind their door. The smile she paints on for societys sake, the tears she hides,her life, a masquerade. It is a battle to restore.Her love, a double-edged sword, sharp and keen,It cuts her as she tries to mend his soul.

An enabler, a martyr, in this scene ? Some say yes, others say no. She fights a ghost, a shadow, not quite whole.The nights are long, the days are blurred, she struggles in an invisible war. She’s exhausted, yet her voice is not heard,In her silent plea for something more.

She dreams of peace, of quiet days,Where love doesn’t hurt, where laughter’s free,But here she stands, in this endless maze,With his addiction, of their reality.

About Me