My therapist once told me that overcoming an addiction is a daily battle: I will always crave a cigarette on my lunch breaks, and I will always instinctively reach for a razor blade when life is on overdrive. Every day is a war with my mind to not give in to itself. I wonder if it’s going to be like that with you, too. I wonder if every day I will fight not to pick up the phone just so I can hear your voice.
unless you’ve been there
when the world has knocked
me in the chest and released
the air from my lungs like a loose balloon;unless you’ve been there
to kiss away the memories i’ve
etched into my skin, unless
you know my scars by name;unless you’ve been there
to simply hold me when
crying becomes like breathing and
i cannot remember how to laugh;unless you’ve been there
to kiss me in the morning
after i’ve stolen the blankets
throughout the night;unless you’ve been there
to call me the day after
i couldn’t say a word, unless
you’ve stayed through dinner
with my family, unless
you’ve stuck around even though
sometimes i scare you shitless;unless you’ve kissed my forehead
after dining with me in hell,
do not tell me
you love me.
My mother warned me about drugs.
She said I wouldn’t want to end up like
my brother: rotting
teeth, rotting body, rotting away
in a cell.My mother warned me about
‘fair weather friends’; the ones that
only stick around when life is good:
they’d get their nails
done at the salon with you, then
stab you in the back with them
the week after.But my mother never warned me about
the people who stick
with you through everything:
the ones you get addicted to,
the ones you think you need to keep
you alive when all you want to do is
rip your skin off.She never warned me that
they were drugs, too.She never warned me about how
they’d suck
all the strength out of you.She never told me that
eventually, you have to fight
alone.
i assured myself his eyes
would always search for me
in the cracks between the pavement
and his ears would listen for me
when the wolves
howled at night.
but now i know
he’s filled those cracks
with softer skin and
while the wolves
howl, his ears are full
of her laughter,
and so
it doesn’t
even
matter.
i am nothing
to him anymore.
and so a piece of me dies.
i am a little less
of who i was before.
i’m in some sort
of fucked up purgatory.
dancing between
reaching for the phone and
reaching for my throat
because
it’s my fault you’re gone
it’s my fault i’m gone
but at least i’m not
on fire anymore.and i want to call you.
sometimes i go so far as to
hear the dial tone before i remember
i deleted your number
and never bothered to memorize it.
i never thought i’d need to.and sometimes i go so far as to
imagine what it would be like to have you
in my life again until
i remember how much it hurt
the first time around;
how heaven and hell were never meant to be
together because
that’s what being with you was and
it was a cycle so vicious
i couldn’t for the life of me tear myself away.but i did.
and in the process i lost
my skin from where
we were attached
at the hips.
the scar reminds me why i cannot go back.
because my hands might as well be ghosts,
the way they touch you.
because my lips are useless
if they never meet your skin.
because i will always love you,
and you
will always love someone else.
I’m sinking into the air again.
I reach out to grab your hand
but all I get is smoke.
You aren’t anywhere to be found.
I’m getting used to turning around
and not seeing you there.
You said you’d always be there for me.
I found it easy to believe–
it’s what I needed to hear.
You made that promise long ago.
It’s my fault, I should have known
you don’t keep them so well.
And I know life swept you off your feet,
took you places you’d never dreamed.
I just thought you’d take me, too.
So I’ve learned at the end of the day
everybody goes their own way.
I guess I should let go.
So much can change
in so little time.
All you had– gone–
in the blink of an eye.
Don’t dwell on the past,
it’s already gone by.
Turn your face to the future
and see how it shines.
Please trust when I say
it’ll all turn out fine,
not long after darkness
the world will be bright.
Probably:
the guarantee
of a lukewarm promise that
may or may not be
broken.
Probably: like babbling
brooks and babies. Like
babbling on and on and on;
empty words
just to fill the space
you were so afraid
of.
Probably:
a thumbs up for empty air and
words that pop like bubbles.
A contract signed with
probably in the
fine print scares me.
As I curl into your back I whisper:
will you still love me in the morning?
Only the sticky air replies:
hopefully,
maybe,
probably.
thank god for hybrids, you’d said as you looked at me
and grinned the day
the gas prices climbed.
i can get 40 miles per gallon on this baby.
you could spend less money and
go further, and
you loved that.
you always were thrifty.
and now
i can’t help wishing that maybe
my heart was
a hybrid, too because
the more time that
goes by,
the less you hold
my hand;
the less you tell me you
love me
and i’m trying to
make us run with
less and less gas, but
i’m not sure how much
further we can
go.
Looking back, I’m thankful that you hurt me. If you hadn’t, I probably would have stayed.
Silenticel 