A third lover

I loved him

with all the light

I could gather—

but the dark

he carried

was heavier

than my arms.

addiction is

a third lover

in our bed,

more faithful

to him

than I could

ever be.

I begged

the bottle,

the pill,

the silent ache—

leave him to me.

but love

doesn’t win

against a ghost

that lives

inside the veins.

and so,

I hold him

while he drifts,

and pray

one day

he’ll choose

the living.