The Alcoholic

This
is what it
feels like to be an Alcoholic
All that I was
or ever would be
revolved
around my friend

She
greeted me in the morning
nausea, remorse
headaches

She
pestered me at noon
making plans
of
where
to find her

In which store
shall I seek her
each day
a different
location

She
nagged me
in the evening
ruling
my every action

She
duped me in the night
promising to
quit


She
was my master
my lover
my destroyer