Erosion

It’s in the air
here.

The growing
stench of
mediocrity and
desperation.
 
It wafts through
the city like
an ocean breeze
tingeing, eroding
the quality of
life around us.
 
This is not you,
you are not this,
but the wind
confuses you;
keeps you down.
 
Convinced that
your finest
qualities have all
but turned to ash,
and blown away,
you find other
ways to feel.
 
You’ve never
been able to
handle criticism,
and when I
find you, finally,
in the guestroom
of another
nameless mansion,

the needle is
already
centimeters
deep
in your arm.
 
You are
determined
to forget the
world. I am
determined
not to let you.
 
You tell me
the half-bath
which we are
occupying –
 
as you wipe the
vomit from
your chin -  
 
is twice the size
of any apartment
you have ever
rented.
 
I believe you.
 
Your frustrations
are not wasted
upon me, but
mine are growing.
 
You must be mad
not to recognize
the familiarity
in my voice.
My dreams.
My fears.
 
It is rare that
I am able to
connect with
anyone.
It is rare that
you want to.
But we do.
 
I wrap you
tightly in my
sweater, and tell
you it was only a
mistake.
 
You tell me that
you will make it
again.
 
I believe this too,
and I take you
home anyway.

We will begin
the vicious cycle
again tomorrow,
but tonight I will
hold you through it.

You, sweating
through my sheets.
Me, crying quietly
into my pillow case.
 
Hoping a new day
will bring the answers
which we seek; that
my love will bring
you to your feet.
 
I believe.