It's 4am and she notices that the streets are empty.
Her night is over.
She picks up her purse and starts stumbling home.

Her five inch heels are making it difficult to walk on the cobble stone road.
Her feet hurt from standing all night that not even the pills in her system can numb the pain.

She pulls out her flask and takes a gulp.
She continues to stumble home, forgetting a baby is waiting for her, begging to be fed.

As she finally arrives to her tin bent door, she sees him. Right on time, waiting for his payment.
She pulls out a couple hundred from her bra, and hands it to his tattoo covered, yellow teeth grinning, tobacco smelling lord.
"You're covered for this one."
She has another night.
She enters her one bedroom house, rips her clothes off, and falls asleep.
The baby is starving.

She wakes up to the baby screaming.
She dresses for the night, gives the baby drops of bourbon,
and heads out for the night.

4am arrives sooner than she expected, she's scared.
She starts stumbling home, again.
She falls, twisting her foot.
She tries to get up, but it's too late.

He's already approaching her.
He usually waits for her at the door.
He's grinning again with his yellow teeth and tobacco breath.
He pulls her hair and starts dragging her away from her house.
She cries. She begs.
She looks at the sky and prays it's over quickly.
She knows she's not making it home today.

Her baby's crying again.

He said "Let's be broken together".
Though those words comforted me for a time, it also showed me he didn't know better.

He could never truly understand the intensity of one's self loath such as mine.

He isn't broken, he's my perfection, my one exception.

Perhaps he's the acceptance I need to open doors that will allow me to self love?

He is not broken.

But he loves me nonetheless.

When I experience something beautiful, I think of you.

When the sun is setting and the shadows of kids playing on swings enter my camera, it reminds me of your life.

I wish I could make you laugh.

When I'm sitting in a coffee shop writing in this notebook and look at the rain drops fall onto the pavement, I think of your happiness.

I wish I could make you happy.

When the leaves fall from trees around me in orange and reds, I think of your dreams.

I wish I could help you chase them.

When snow is barricading us in and I stare into a burning fire, I think of your desires.

I wish I could fulfill them.

But mostly when I blink and take a breath, I think of my love for you--

I wish it was enough.