You Left Me in the Dark

I caught you drinking again last night. You fell asleep on the couch before you hid the bottle away. You watched the TV for a while, then you closed your dark brown eyes to the world and cradled that bottle when you should've been cradling me.

Sometimes I wish I didn't love you. It's too hard to live like this, a life of emptying bottles down drains and covering you with the afghan from the back of the armchair every other night. Sometimes I think of leaving. But then I remember that there's no one else anymore, no one out there to love you and protect you like I do.

So I follow the usual routine, sneaking a gulp of my own before I empty the rest of the alcohol out, and I cover you with the afghan before I shuffle back to our room. But I guess it's really just my room these days.