chemical dependencyMature

Chemical dependency.  Two words meant to describe her entire life; tragedy and promises and lazy Sunday afternoons compressed down into seven syllables and nonchalant judgment. Excuses not to pick up her calls or acknowledge her on the street. Eyes that used to meet hers now wandering to the shoelaces dragging on the pavement or the changing traffic lights. Unbearable silence.

The pristine divination of condemnation hung like a shawl about her shoulders, keeping her warm while it snaked ever-tighter, slowly cutting off circulation and oxygen; a slow-motion suicide she held close to her chest. Always an option, always the safety. The haunting in her bones of a life unloved and lived uncomfortably like a soul too big for its body, wedged into the crooks of her elbows and the dips between her fingers.

Brought down by a minuscule fracture in her structure; held beneath the unrelenting press of human weakness and emotional avoidance. A blemish that turns the diamond black.

The End

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