Poems

DETOX

She’s not drinking with him again,
Tho wine is still a pleasure:
In the main it caused too much pain,
And she’s had more than her measure.

He’d slept with her and then forgot,
So next day had to ask
Whether or not he’d dreamt the lot –
And when she took him to task. . .

“Don’t take it personally,” he’d yelled,
“It’s the alcohol, not me!”
Til he can tell it’s him as well
She knows she must break free. . .

And here is where it has to start –
With that long, sad detox of the heart.