I had not noticed her addiction. It was everything but that.
As she sleeps, I watch through my own drifting slumber. As we dine, a hand on my lap as the food is shared. As she speaks I listen and try to give her answers. Between work we check in.
Her every scent I know as she playfully sprays some on my half awake being every morning, while she dresses and grooms for work.
She speaks of new beginnings and recovery, and I promise to be there every step of the way.
But there is a breed of women, whose addiction dictate their desires. Addiction to attention, to feel wanted by many, addiction that is in direct irony of all the stability they speak of.
This "love" is about feeding, and us, but drugs.
How do identify an addict when the symptons only surface too late?
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