Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2015
"I have been clean for three weeks, now," I say. She looks up, stares for a long time. I try to hide my fear behind exhaustion. I don't want her to know how bad it used to get. How bad I needed to let go. How hard it was for me to do so. How, sometimes, the pull is there, just on the side of my brain, whispering, urging me to follow it, upstream, where the tumbled thoughts drown me.
"I'm proud of you", she says. I want to say thank you very much, it means a lot. Instead, I close my eyes against the pain in my heart. My shoulders sag and my features crumble. I wish I'm proud of you were the words I wanted to hear. They're not.
I love you, are the words I need. The words you left out my front porch, where the prints of your loafers are still embedded in my memories. I sniffle and take a breath. I have been clean for three weeks and you will not invade my mind once again. Letting you roam my thoughts again would destroy me this time around. I breathe and appraise myself.
"Thanks. Want to get some ice cream?"
"Sure. I'm paying", she stands up and pulls me up. This is what I need. Someone to pull me up. So I let myself smile, let her swipe away my tears, and let her bottle you inside once again. The smile gets bigger, and my taste buds sparkle.
"There, I'd almost missed this", she says.
"Missed what?" I manage to pronounce around a mouthful.
"You. This is who you are, Mary. You are strong. Funny. Incredible. This is who you are."
"I'd lost myself for a while, I think", I say slowly. She nods. She understands. "Thank you for saving me, Jul', it means a lot."
The words lift my chest higher than clouds, and my breath is light with freedom.
This is who I am.
Turn Off The Lights
Written by
Turn Off The Lights  UK
(UK)   
424
   --- and Jon Shierling
Please log in to view and add comments on poems