Tastes Like Hope

She entered the bar with the false premise that reality can be ignored and a twelve dollar whiskey could make her forget

There wasn’t enough alcohol in the world that could erase the taste of hope from her tongue, erase the flavor that she had quickly grown addicted to

She slipped into the taxi with wet eyes and five dollars she hoped could last the thirty dollar ride

It doesn’t do well to drink alone when you’re too ashamed to pick up the phone and hear a familiar voice

She lit the cigarette with a shaking hand as she breathed in the darkness and exhaled shadows of light

Going home meant facing harsh truths, looking into eyes that could break you

She stumbled up cracked stairs, pressed her forehead against a door she was too afraid to open

The lights were all off, no one there to see how broken things walk

She locked the door behind her, slide to knees buckling under the burden of temporary drunken bliss

Her wedding ring had long disappeared and the baby had grown up

She washed the smeared mascara and faded shade of cheap wine gracing her lips, something in her wanted to look like she remembered hope

Hands gripped the sink, tears fell like the showers that ruin weekend plans

She passed the cracked bedroom door, left the light on so the monsters wouldn’t wake the little boy who had to tuck himself into bed that night

The bed welcomed her home, kissed her goodnight

She fell asleep with something the tasted like hope fading from her tongue

 

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