By Sara Gupta
My dear friend, today feels like a heavy weight.
Not surprised, are we? It's the same old fate.
Words often stumble, but with you, they find a way
To express the ache of needing you in my veins.
You sit on my table, just like yesterday.
A bittersweet reminder of your intoxicating embrace.
Hey, do you want to play charades?
I'll channel every emotion I can masquerade;
Happiness, joy, everything in between,
But you call my bluff, revealing the seams.
Oh, you're the champion, the master of all my dimes;
My shelves overflow with your bottled lies.
I tell myself I can end this, replace you anytime,
But each sip pulls me deeper into your design.
People offer wisdom as though I lack enough
The same ones who pop a cork when life gets rough.
Thinking they're better, they've got control,
Then what are the voices I hear coming from their homes?
Each of them fights over who drank the last drop,
As if a bottle holds more emotions than their child's soft heart.
There's a family that moved in next door;
By day, the man seems a loving husband, for sure
But as the sun sets all you hear is his wife's plea-
She cries and tries, hoping he could see
That pouring his wine down the sink will set him free.
The next time I see her, she wears a scarf,
Concealing her neck, though it's summer and warm.
I stand and look at my reflection in the mirror,
In disgust, horror, all the fright I could muster.
Could the line between him and I blur in the future?
Could his reality mirror my own monstrosity?
And all of this a faraway possibility?
Is this how this game is played?
You comfort me til I'm addicted to your taste.
Make promises of taking all my problems away
You keep up the facade; it's your clever bait,
Until I pay the price and realize it's too late
This time around I call your bluff,
In this game for two, I've finally had enough.
Your intoxication is fading; the haze starts to clear,
It's time I put an end to your charades, my dear.