The Addict Poem by H.E Warfield

Five pairs of earrings,
carelessly spread across the window sill.
Bobby pins fallen,
scattered on the carpet below.
Baby wipes covered in black,
proof my mind was still about me.
Stained wine glass,
unwashed and reused.
Curtains that were chosen before me
flirting with the dusty blinds,
I inherit a shield worse than my interior.
They don’t offer much privacy
I try to pull them shut
Still, the heat seeps through the gaps
welcoming an intrusive torrent of light
The brazen ticking of the clock demands my attention,
like a screaming baby.