It was entirely my fault

When morning comes, He’ll barely remember the fight, And how he almost came to blows.

Aalia Suleman July 03, 2016
We had fought bitterly,

And now, he is out like a light,

But like countless other times,

When morning comes,

He’ll barely remember the fight,

And how he almost came to blows,

He won’t recall his cursing and yelling.

When it will stop, there is no telling.


I know the children were listening,

To the abuses and roars,

Of their drunk father.

Even through closed doors,

It’s getting worse and worse,

But I can’t pry him away,

From the seductive horrors of the bottle,

That coax and lure him,

Into an infinite mindlessness every night.


Throwing caution to the wind,

He has become oblivious,

To the financial toll it’s taking,

To the emotional fissures it’s making,

But my agony and suffering,

Is entirely my fault.


For marrying a man,

Who had told me,

He was only a ‘social drinker’,

And that he only took an occasional drink,

Or two,

With friends and at parties.


Oh, how could I not have known?

That two drinks gradually turn to four,

And four to eight,

Until these daughters of grape create,

Raging, snarling monsters,

Who are not brothers, fathers or husbands,

But unrecognisable imposters.


I, too, fight with one everyday,

Begging and pleading him,

To see sense,

But he is no longer a man of intellect or reason,

Education or compassion,

The horrifying tale of Jekyll and Hyde,

Is enacted in my home every night.


I tell people ‘he is only a social drinker’,

They give me pitiful looks,

They know,

It’s never a ‘social drinker’,

It’s a raging demon,

Waiting to be unleashed,

And when it breaks its chains,

It devastates everything in its wake.


I know now,

That a social drinker,

Is an allusion,

Of a horrifying reality,

I have witnessed this reality,

Yet again,

As I sit there in the dark,

Staring into abysmal nothingness.


I know when it is morning light,

He will never remember the fight,

He’ll no longer be Mr Hyde,

But I will not ask help in fighting this demon,

For I am far too dignified,

I have too much grace,

For it was entirely my fault,

For marrying a ‘social drinker’,

In the first place...
Aalia Suleman A freelance writer and poet who is keenly interested in the status of women in 21st century Pakistan. Her writing also zones in on Pakistan's new social and political status on a redefined global chessboard. She has a masters degree in English Literature and blogs and invites debates at 'Socio-politically Pakistani'. She tweets @aaliasuleman (
The views expressed by the writer and the reader comments do not necassarily reflect the views and policies of the Express Tribune.

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