Broken door
First time putting a hard lesson into words.
A bottle full, leaves you empty.
A bottle empty, leaves you full-
of hateful codependency,
A reliance writhed so heftily.
Who but numbing remedies,
surmounts your hard earned confidence.
Assurance failed with depleted words,
circling about your obscure properties.
To tend, to nurture and to fill-
fill your soiled cup.
To spill mine into yours,
until we both have nil.
You aren’t to blame, though once aggrieved,
I see your hurting heart.
It was that awful night, cold frosted panes,
Where your anguish was best perceived.
You called me home, Distraught and contrite.
I stressed wheels on ice, impotent and weary.
The door was locked I knocked and knocked-
Panicked and uptight.
I cared not for a broken door,
but your body lying sore.
Near unconscious to your core,
you wished a pill did more,
More take more,
More, until there is no more left-
inside you, sickness strangling you.
I cared not for a broken door,
but your body lying sore.
Near unconscious to your core,
wishing I did more.
About the Creator
Hyde Wunderli
Enthusiast of gothic romanticism and strong themes.
Here for the dopamine, the passion, and the challenge to push my comfort zone.
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