A Predictable Headache (prompt: addiction)

She is a beautiful,

tragic corpse

these days,

but I can recall

halcyon days

just her and me

riding the highways

no map

no empty pockets.

We just kept calling

out to each other

and we kept answering

“sure, why not?’

It was only after

many, many nights

did I sense her

disenchantment

and the part of her

that came alive

from my touch

became perfunctory

a dull routine

a predictable

headache.

Impulsively

I said goodbye

and divorced her

very publicly

to help gird my decision

and while some doubted

her sway over me,

I knew the truth,

and I still visit her

in the liquor aisle

of the grocery

almost smug

at my 21 years

of sobriety,

but still

afraid to

step back into

her embrace.