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  • Writer's pictureThe Feminist Times


He was addicted to euphoric state

I was addicted to His euphoric state

On the days he would be silent

I would spend the night wondering

When would he make any utterance

On the days he would come early

I would curl up in my bed sooner

If I ever found the bottle full

I would often end up wondering

How different it would be

If he was sober, not dysfunctional

The days he would talk to me

Were the days I would wail the most

I would no longer wait for his arrival

His departure would give me joy

The thought of looking in his eye

Would send chills down my spine

His outbursts were no longer scary

I was just exhausted to feel them again

He was addicted to his denial

I was addicted to seeing him suffer

He was addicted to escaping issues

I was addicted to wailing every night

- Aayushi Mittal

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