I live within a prison cell, though without metal bars. This place is visible--and yet, not. It is a place of great pain and enormous joy. There is some light, at times. Mostly, though, it is an incarceration in inky blackness.
My imprisonment began the day of the admission: he is an addict. The man I married and have entrusted with my heart truly loves me. But he also loves others. Some have names; some, are strangers. They have faces and bodies that are unattainable. Yet he longs for them.
I remember the days when he longed only for me.
Maybe someday, those days will be mine again.
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