am i you?
am i you, or am i me, or
is it somewhere in between?
when you’re with me, it’s like we’re complete
things feel like they’re as should be
so am i you, or am i me?

i thought about it.
that’s what makes this the worst, i think;
i thought about it --
-- and then i did it anyway.

i know recovery isn’t a straight line.
i know recovery is ups and downs, your own
mountain range of
improvement.
sometimes you slide.

i know.
but is it still backsliding if you thought about it?
because i did.
and then i did it anyway.

your hair looks like dirt,
she said.
i laid in her lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, and for me
it was
i didnt love her.
i was never under the illusion of loving her, just
the idea
that maybe i could love her
that maybe she could love me

he walks around with her heart in a glass, doesnt even notice
when it rattles and threatens to
break

i would want to agonize over the
mistakes
that i made
But the truth is,
thinking about them is like walking on eggshells

it hasn't been long enough for the ache to fade
for the memory of how innocent and comforting it all was
you were there when i lost myself and at the end when i was
right there all along,
you smiled and told me it was okay.

the thread unravels.
i curl up in a blanket that doesnt fit this mattress
fall asleep in the middle of the day
when i cant in the middle of the night

curved words forming around soft lips