Bent Under Pressure

Drifting off to sleep,
our room showered with golden-coral light reflected, slumber welcoming
sheets skim my bare skin, and I embrace pillowed comfort around me, sweet scent
my aroused surface, powder soft, hair raised anticipation, invisible
fixed for touch, open.
What feels like moments is probably hours, enough time to dream of you close -
I awake, lights dim, blankets lifted with stumbling silence, golden light gone,
sour scents – your breath – sweet acrid  fermented spirit, clouded visions move
I waited, this time
hours alone again, no longer surprised –  long gone, other times for years.
I would always hope one day you would choose love over substances, lost hope
nightmares, those false voices of home reflected in your isolation
controls you alone,
chained to your vices you hide, afraid of shameful secrets that block your love.
Bitter notes hanging fragrant in the air, with silence stumbling, you remain
hidden behind self-created walls, my love a rejected chisel, prods,
bent under pressure.