Two Bottles

Two bottles used to be my evening folly.

The first bottle, jovial and endearing, embraced me. A surge of connection enlivened my being.

The second bottle, meant to enhance and prolong, actually sealed my fate. Corruption and sabotage, they ruin the fragile notion of peace initially so warmly received.

I awaken in darkness, terrified and alone. My two acquaintances lie on the floor, empty, devoid of spirit. No respite, their presence was only a temporary soothing, before the manacles of addiction summon malevolent obedience once more.

Published by From Wretched to Recovery

Writing about my experience of alcoholism and recovery from addiction. The aftermath, the lessons learnt, the wisdom acquired, healing through gratitude, compassion and forgiveness.

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