Crutches

It’s true, they’re happy day to day,
Disruption only caused from the path of sobriety strayed.

There’s a haziness to his eyes,
There’s a sensitivity, that turns into conversation, that turns into his demise.

There’s a woman who can tell in an instant that this is not him,
And that today, he’s jumped into his pool of vices, which could be a deadly swim.

How could such a wonderful man, have such an ordinary crutch?
Turning such a warm soul, into the coldest touch.

Bringing all his insecurities to the surface of his skin,
Tomorrow she knows, it’ll be day 1, they shall begin again.

The same conversations of remorse told each time,
Between support and hard- love, it’s a fine- line.

The biggest threat she faces is her husband’s draw to alcohol,
For it’s as powerful as the ocean and takes pleasure in watching the sturdiest of love fall.

Alcohol will act as his friend and make him feel an empty goodness for a couple hours,
But once that buzz dissipates, he blinks and his whole world has gone sour.

She knows it’s a disease and it’s not as easy as flipping a switch,
But she also knows, a small hole revisited eventually turns into a hurtful ditch.

You can see the love for her in his eyes,
Yet he’s constantly taunted, turning “just one drink,” into something justified.

You can see the love for him in her eyes,
Yet this game between addiction and human is something she can recognize.

They’re in between madly in love and in complete shambles,
Each time he opens the bottle it’s a gamble.

Poems and EssaysSkye Schanzer