being saved

once again
this suffocating sea of shit
has come close to stealing
my breath
once more
she gives me hope
the promise of beauty
a prospect of happiness
I’m beginning to get used
to this
not accustomed to having an angel
just my self, my hate
and a bottle
stewing in the dark
visited by memories and regrets
she tells me I’m not alone
at least, I don’t have to be
she will share my bottle
share my darkness
hear my regrets and memories
temper my hate
I could get used to this
to being saved
to not being alone
it’ll be a stretch
but maybe I can handle it
certainly I hope so
because I think
I like being saved
much more then
being damned

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