Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jemima Mitra Sep 26
I miss the                    
                sober you
And the things that we used to say
                                                     and do.
                              I miss the sunny days
Before we went our separate ways.
I miss
            my friend
And the messages
                                      we’d send,
The things you’d teach me -
                  Like how to make a perfect cup of tea
You figured George Orwell knew best
                       But I wasn’t
          as easily impressed.

You text me out of the blue
                                                      at 3am
Then don’t seem to
                         text me again
You’re already turning to
                                              a half-
formed ghost.

A staggering

                              at the very most.

I wonder why you bother with me:
              What is it that I’m doing wrong that I can’t see?

You’re there                    
                                   and then
                                                                ­      you’re gone,
A fading,

A few            
                   more pints of beer
And suddenly      
                        you’re right                            
                                                                ­     here;
Our conversations are back too
                              But what ever happened to sober you?

                     you showed up when I didn’t expect you to
I didn’t need to guess,                      
                                 I already knew
                       Your face was
                                             drooping, your eyes glazed
              so common                              now                                 ­                                                                 ­     
                                      that  I’m                
­ no longer fazed.

Why do you only talk to me
                    when you’re ****** up?
                                   Why does this feel like a *******

                     And I miss you            
                                                 ­ so much;
I miss my close friend

                    Why won’t you tell me
                                           What led to sober you’s end?

                   there is something

                                            that I can do

                        To bring back the very
                     ­                                     best version of you?
Ackerrman Sep 5
Well done,
Just like everyone,
I have my
My clean shirt,
My clean mind.

Getting older now,
When lonely-
Stay clean!
Build a future
I never thought I would see.

Step back,
Step forward,
But moved,
Always moved,
Though stagnant-
Not sterile.

Don’t drift to decay,
In the room,
No psychosis!
mila splawska Aug 26
come over when you’re sober
or drunk
or sad as ****
come over when you need me
so i can give you love.
izzn Aug 10
Will this misery end,
like a four-leaf clover?

Will I get
my replenishment,
for all the times
I've been a loner?

Will there be green grass,
when I'm finally
become sober?

Will this storm pass,
or will it
remain forever?
There's no storm in this world that won't last.
Mine will, yours will,
even when the odds
are against our own will.
So, chin up,
and have faith,
'cause this storm,
it lasts,
it will pass.
(ps: my state had been struck with really bad and disastrous storm lately due to Typhoon Lekima, keep us in your prayers, thx)
Nothing more will be done.
Your final touch emptied
my lungs of I can’t live without you
and I took my first breath in this
world. I cried like most newborns
and pacified myself with poetry
I am thankful you let go
else I wouldn’t have learned
how to walk alone.
Vernell Allen Jul 26
You were not the
Monarchs fluttering
in my womb. Just a
consequence of drinking
too much. They drowned
in the regrets I swallowed.

But some nights
I ***** the memories
wrapped in cocoons
and place them in old
shoe boxes.

And someday when I am sober
I will untape the wound,
release the butterflies,
and set myself free.
Vernell Allen Jul 24
it’s difficult to watch his steps in the dark.
and even harder to catch him when he
falls and you look into his clouded
eyes as see an empty room
forged by walls built with
regret. oh, how you
wish you were
enough to
tear them
Poetry book SOBER. out now. Link is in my bio! Please support!
Lace Jul 12
Another day goes by
Dealing with cravings and my pride
The signals in my brain short out and scream
I dream about getting high


Swallowed by the thoughts in my mind
I go to a quiet place
Feel the sun shining on my face
And everything is okay
For a moment

Then it's gone


They say one day at a time
But what about the night
The demons of this disease
Are putting up a good fight

The head and the heart
Make fighting a form of art

Can't breathe

They say


But I'll fight
Day and Night
I'll get this right
25 days clean
Next page