not a room full of strangers in a cold church
basement passing around a basket –
looking for donations and reading from
a book about the etiquette

of sobriety. I want to run to you –
not to meetings were ticking time bombs sit
telling tales of ****** wars soon forgotten
the next morning. I want to hold you –

not the bottle. I want to look forward to
your call, not another afternoon of heavy
drinking. Even through lapses of memory I
haven’t forgotten what it was that you did

for me. I hope you understand
this. I slipped and turned to a liquid form for
help. And now that you are back, I need
to tell you how I cut myself down, to just a stump

that people plant their ***** on. I need a
friend, not just anyone. I need someone who loves
me as I am. And that’s not a very easy thing
to do. Because we both know I’m difficult and

complicated on my best days. But this bleeding heart
is so doused in 100 proof that the slightest ray from
the sun could set it ablaze. It won’t take a lot. I promise;
just a little love. Love does amazing things
to heal this woman’s long suffering.