Forgive your enemies, but always remember their names.
John F. Kennedy
I saw my X on the street who startled me to say the least, seeing instantly how his alcoholism has escalated.
His clothes were rumpled, he needed a haircut. I could smell last night’s booze oozing from his pores.
He was all over me, kissing me on both checks, saying how great I looked.
Yeah, I’m still standing alright, despite the way you treated me.
The belittling, the cheating. How you said, my niceness made you sick.
Now I hear he’s with a lady who beats him up regularly, like a favorite hobby.
I was still polite, but detaching quickly since he was moaning about how unhappy he is.
Nope, don’t rescue drunks anymore, sorry, and I have you to thank, you whose abuse drove me into a 12 Step program that taught me how to save myself from the perils of alcohol.
That’s not to say my heart didn’t open, knowing now it’s a disease more than just a pastime in a glass, but I’m glad to say, memory, who never leaves my side, kept her vigilant foot in the door…