"rehab" poems
Seven shots with ****** knuckles,
four bottles of letting everyone down,
Eight hits from a disappointing life.
It only took me one trip to the rehab center called your touch. I used the medicine of your love to become sober.
now I am dependent on you, I need you every day and do not feel the same without you. I have an itch when I'm away and a warmth when I'm close. I became addicted to your love.
twelve tabs of compassion,
three pints of self-worth,
five pills of your warm embrace,
And one injection of beautiful passion.
I want you...
I need you...
I have you.
I love you.
Jan 27, 2017
Jan 27, 2017 at 1:41 PM UTC
midnight skin blanketing
******* toned hips
a warm tongue points;
this
the taste of ecstasy on my
fingertips
taunts the rehab in my touch
yearning to risk it
pills litter stone-wood floors
as we **** through flaws
**** feelings carpet the inner raw**
moaning and creaking
of hard wood
boards
wild moods
bodies wet
clinging sensual monsoon
fiending for a fixing
we cut through
bleeding lust
******
sheets whispering drops of
crimson truth
as familiar sensations pulsate
we gyrate
losing focus of whose waist
hanging onto
****
don’t wait
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
Nobody chooses a bottle willingly. A pill or a loaded gun, in the end it's all the same.
We're waiting, still, hiding. In our holiest of places:
The kitchen and the office. A quiet sideways-slide into the last available stall in a casino washroom. The seat is still warm.
Teachers don't tell kids that drugs are bad. They told us that we were the evil ones for deep-throating a bottle of ***** every Friday.
They didn't know what we had to go home to.
Cancer sounded better than living past 20, and that's the thing that they'll never comprehend:
There's always a reason underneath overdose.
The only time a drug is bad is when you can't afford it, and you're sitting alone in a fetal position crying in need for a chemical bliss that you've caressed over and over; a blanket covering memories. Feelings. Emotions.
The only time a drug is bad is when you're too **** poor to grab anything better than a box of Benadryl and a dimebag of shake.
The only time a drug is bad is when you're anything but rich an' white and pretty, because then you're not addicted, you're having fun with the price of 1,000 a week at an all-inclusive rehab resort.
Drugs don't discriminate, but people sure as Hell do.
There's always a reason underneath overdose.
There's always a reason underneath.
There's always a reason.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Alcoholism took my father away from me.
I watched him destroy his life from the age of five.
When Austin left us- I watched his life shatter completely.
I started to plink away on the piano.
Then he started to pick up the pieces.
He got his life together, remarried, and is trying to repay a lost childhood.
So I continue to play.
Now, I'm watching both my sister's life come to crumbles at the lips of a bottle.
So I play louder.
One has gone to rehab for drugs and alcohol.
She is getting better- back on her feet.
The other has moved out and cut off communication with our Father.
So I keep playing.
I'll write a sonng or two for you-
and I'll wait for you to come home.
All I've ever known alcohol to do- is destroy.
And people wonder why the smell nauseates me..
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC
iN & Out Of Rehab
iRelapse
Then Collapse
iNever
Commited To Sober Living So Why Are People Tripping?
Drug Programs
Are A Waste According To My Case.
im Never Going to Stop
unless i O.D And Drop
But Even iN Heaven Thats iF iRise.
With the Angel
imma Continue Tweaking Cause iM A ****** Tweaker
Or iN Hell With Fallen Angels.
It'll Be Better,
Since iSold My Soul To The Devil.
He Never Asked
iJust Gave iT Up.
iFell iN Love With A stimulant Drug made up Of Chemicals ****** Poison But idgaf il Keep Dosing.
Went From Snorting To Smoking
Methamphetamine
iLet iT Get The Best Of Me.
Part 2
Out & iN
2014 iTs Krazie
iM Back To This Dope ****
Its been Already 4 years and
Im still Addicted.
In & Out
Of Rehabs, Different Drug Programs and Sad That iStill
Havnt learned ****
Got Out November 19 2014 For The 3rd Time
And im Still Twisting, Getting Lit
Ilove Living Twisted
Im on a comedown
Im irrated right now wanting to take
Another hit.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Hey everyone,
I wanted you all to know
That I went to rehab
No, not drug rehab
****** addiction rehab
Much more...I don't know,
Abnormal?
I want you to know this
Because I love you
And I don't care
What kind of **** you've been through
Or how ****** up you are
I am too
I've been close to a lot
And I'm sure if I knew your whole,
I would love you the same,
If not even more
Because vulnerability is beautiful
Wear your heart inside out
You won't scare me
And if you scare someone else, well,
Now you know who they are
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
Sunday:
Ant Pills
Bear Traps
Cobra Feet
Monday:
Dolphin Lungs
Eel Soup
Frog Limbs
Tuesday:
Gecko Suits
Horse Pie
Inchworm ***
Wednesday:
Jaguar Barbed
Koala Beer
Lynx Lynch
Thursday:
Monkey Chips
Narwhal Fashions
Otter Drugs
Friday:
Porcupine Rehab
Quail Map
Roadrunner Piano
Saturday:
Slug Party
Turkey Slop
Urchin See
Sunday:
Vulture Guns
Walrus Tongues
X No
Monday:
Yellowjacket Fever
Zebra Clowns
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:08 PM UTC
***is there a rehab
for self-hatred?
because i don't
fall into drugs.
i fall back into
hating myself.***
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
He looks like a rasta
Preaches no money only peace
But smokes no ****
He’s been sober all his life
Like he just got out of rehab
But doesn't mind if his friends smoke a couple trees
He breaks it down like a b-boy
That might of known Michael Jackson
Then belts out American country music
In the heart of Africa
Designs fashion making Europeans wonder
If they should colonize Africa again to get his resources.
Neo-colonization anyone?
He has small money
He lives poor
But lives rich
Has his own humble home
Like the adult he’s been since 15
And loves helplessly like he’s still 15
Despite the bruises the world continues to lash on his never aging soul.
Ohhh
Those bruises must hurt
But he’s trying to heal them with his art
He is an anomaly
Doesn’t fit here or there
But anomalies are perfectly normal
They choose to sit in there soul
Release truth that needs to be told
Because it’s only natural
Not fabricated
The fabricated
Really hates it.
The fabricated
Still takes a taste of it
Because they want that
Freedom
The fabricated
Watch in awe
They say no
You aren’t allowed to do that
That’s a contradiction
You’re a paradox
Social lines wont let you cross that.
Get back in line
Get back in line
Before we shoot you
Because we want your freedom too.
He’s been shot a couple times
I think his soul is his armor
But he lives in a human body
So you can imagine he’s not all that bullet proof.
Even if his body dies one day
I swear his soul will live on.
His freedom has no expiration date.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
What if I told you
I want to die?
That I'm tired of living,
of being alive?
What if I said
it gets worse at night?
The thoughts get louder
and everything seems wrong
What if I told you I lied
when I said I was fine?
When I said I'm fine, how are you,
I was actually crying on the inside.
What if I lied
and said everything is alright
No, I'm not crying,
I swear I'm fine.
What if I tried to take my life?
Would you send me to rehab?
Hoping the doctors would fix me,
and everything would be fine?
What if I told you hope is dumb?
That hope is a stupid thing to have
Because when I have hope,
everything falls apart.
What if I told you I lied, again, when I said I was better?
That I only said that so you wouldn't worry?
Well,
I did.
What if I said to you,
I've hated myself since the age of 9?
That I wish you could've helped,
before it was too late?
What if I succeeded in killing myself?
I doubt anyone would cry.
Would you even care,
If I took my own life?
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 11:07 PM UTC
I need rehab from you, and I’m sorry
but this isn’t healthy.
Admitting being a problem is sobering
And I hope you can recover from my withdrawal.
I’ll be busy detoxing myself,
For everyone after you.
But mostly for myself.
I hope you remember how great you are!!
As I try to forget all the poison you gave me
I'll be cheering you on from a far!!
& revising the scripts I tell myself
So that one day I'll stop playing the role
You put me in
And I'll start living
For myself again
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 12:04 AM UTC
Drug Addict
I drink beer, I drink liquor,
doing shots makes it quicker.
I smoke a bowl, I smoke a joint,
is there a problem, get to the point.
I take acid, I like trip,
I love the trail of a moving whip.
I like ****** sugar, I snort coke,
no wonder, I'm so **** broke.
I pop pills for stress, some for pain,
you'll never hear me complain.
I shoot ****** then I dose off,
my life is just a total loss.
I make and smoke ****
hoping it takes my last breath.
Special K is my favorite tranquilizer,
I use it as a drug appetizer.
I smoke crack, don't ask why,
don't knock it, til you try.
Ecstasy makes me feel so good,
it always puts me in a special mood.
I sniff gas, I sniff glue,
then I ask, who are you.
Sometimes I smoke hash,
I live a life of white trash.
Morphine can't be beat,
my brain has suffered a defeat.
I even take ****** and steroids,
***** big, ***** small and I'm paranoid.
Been to counselling, been to rehab,
last time I went, I ended up with *****
Now finally, I'm clean and sober,
been that way since mid October.
I admit drugs are more fun,
but in the end, God finally won.
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 2:56 PM UTC
Machine ground days
Somehow survived by clinging to precarious plans
Die for those.
For proles are stuck in a televised gleam
but I’m barred from distractions
I’m a man of action
Spring healing:
I found a new hope to get through the day
It has a name and it’s you
Workday: animistic curses
against people and their systems and products
except animals would escape forever
as soon as they open the cage
but we stay
The beastly gnashings of overworked merchandisers
for invisible self pocket stuffers
The competition's getting to us, comrades
I feel swindled out of my labor
I was pregnant
but they sold my child before
I woke up
Addressing the solipsism of my rehab circle:
I’m Kagey, and my life is hazy
but, blunted or no, let’s get this clear:
don’t trust your senses
and that goes for all my human peers
Body is a cage full of defenses
Still, I’m suspicious of reality
whether it’s façade society
or the wooden chair in front of me
Still, I enjoy the virtual scenery
I ain’t talking about on the T.V. or phone screen
I mean the willows, buildings, and faces
But all these mushy green acres are fakers
blobs without our eyesight
Still tho,
me and the universe are tight.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 8:00 AM UTC
**** head, struggling for breath
Final hit, before the red
Light flashes, warning to stop
Over dose, **** the innards
She never chose to lose this
Battle, between herself & it
Where'd she go, lost in space
Chasing herself, a dog with his tail
Praying to an above, to lead her
Straight laced, not swerving off track
Please God save me, her last plea
Before another day dawns, her final wish
Sketcher, tweaker, where's that syringe
The lights too bright, reality a curse
Rolled up in rehab, another ghetto kid
Not this girl, high class, white, moneyed
Lost to the night, speed freak, hopeless
Drowning in addiction, using again
Chemical structures defining her fate
Her brain the game
Disfigured face, unrecognizable eyes
Family love, isn't ever enough
Rushed to ER, another broken soul
Promises that drugs will save her
When only she can ever
Save herself
This time, she's not another life
Lost
The Gods sure blessed her, not with
Her wish
So she's packaged off to rehab
The third times a charm, right?
© Sia Jane
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC
Evil & crime so predictable & stale.
Stupid how arrested suspects get bail.
Convicted when their victims tell.
Prison is where some stay & are jailed.
They have to communicate by mail.
Sometimes their focus goes in another direction.
Where probation happens after correction.
Child & spousal abuse, drug use, & rehab that is no use.
History repeats
Wives & children still get beat.
Their isn't always a Superman or Batman to be your hero.
With a sword or crossbow.
Details of armed robbery , drug dealing & smuggling.
Stabbings & muggings.
On the inside homosexual love with cuddling.
Human trafficking & prostitution.
Violating amendments & constitutions.
They are how they are from how they were raised.
If their victims could speak from the grave
Or had they been saved.
They could explain & describe how their rapists & killers behaved.
Male & females do their time.
Years in custody for their crimes.
Seriousness of their offenses vary.
Some educate, get jobs, or marry.
Behind bars is where violence belongs.
To be punished for all that they did wrong.
Some from death row are now dead.
Similar to the wildlife in a zoo behind bars they get fed.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
iNever Been iN A Relationship With A Human Being.
Only With My Drug,
Crystal ****
IConsidered iT My Lover.
My Baby, My World My Everything. iFell inlove With A Substance,
Felt So Real.
Created A Strong Bond
That Seemed unbreakable We Were unseperable.
This Stimulant Kept Me Away From Reality And Everything in it.
Blocked Me
From Having An Actual Boyfriend and Catching
True Loving Feeling.
iWas Blinded By These False Euphoric Feelings.
A Rush Like iF ive Accomplished A Hundred Things.
iWas Concentrated And Focused On Getting High And
Just living The Addict life.
That iHad No intrest At 16 Towards Boys or having a love life.
My Mind Was Just Set On The Streets And Dope Game,
Riskful Missions And Hanging With Friends. Guys Would Holler,
But id Give No interest.
Just Me And My Drug iS All That Mattered.
Throughout My 3rd Time iN Rehab, My Neighbor Would Call.
A Guy Friend.
Daily Conversations, Laughs And giggls, something so rare and unexperienced.
As iBegan To Recover & Emotions Started To Untie,
iBegan To Feel Some Strange feelings ive never experienced 1st hand.
Once iGraduated My program. We Communicated More,
I liked This, i liked him.
Was Hard To believe that after all he knew about me?
He was into me to.
My supporter, My Friend This Guy Became My 1st Boyfriend <3
041314
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Oh, what a horrible night
Definitely not late December back in '63
These are the Frankie valleys of my days
Night is always black
Night always comes back
Night envelopes us in the abyss
And makes us cherish light
Heightening our senses
To help us handle the unknown
When my days are filled with stimulation
The stillness of night sinks me
Into quicksand mixed by
The current of my mind
Overflowing into the sands of time
And reminds me
Of the stillness of my eyes locked on you
Or the stillness of my actions as you walk by
Or the stillness of my heart when you call me a ******
My frustration boiled
Night's black tar
So I bottled it up
Placed it in a syringe
And medicated my love with darkness
I worked my first job at the local Kroger's
People would leave with everything they wanted
And I'd push their empty carts back into the store
The artificial lights of the street lamps
Lacked warmth
Their hypnotic buzz highlighted
The stillness of night
Making me wonder if there was any way I could be happy
Similar to when activity would die down in rehab
A pitiful wretch left to his faculties
I'd stare out the window
Into the concrete chasm
And wonder if happiness could be found by someone like me
Night continues
Night confines
Day comes
And goes
Night returns
Night reburns
Night relearned
I really hate to see the day come to an end
It'd be alright if I was on the bay with a pen
But I live near sulfur vents
Inside a searing tent
Where the hellacious temperature rises rapidly
Despite the absence of the sun's warmth
The hellfire of night
Reminisces of those
I have thoroughly failed
And my overwhelming remorse
As I stare out my window
Into the bramble ravine
I wonder about the possibility of contentment
The stillness of night answers me
But at least now I can open the door
And charge into the night headstrong
To search frantically
For someone who
Erases my history
And writes my future
And makes me wonder if I could ever be happier
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 4:13 AM UTC
It's hard to fall in love again
Because after all that I've been through
I very strongly believe that the only ones who can ever truly love you back
Are your parents and your dog
It's hard to fall in love again
Because I was born and brought up in a culture which said that all that matters is the outside
And the inside can just go **** off
It's hard to fall in love again
Because it is shown that being fair is the only way you can be lovely
That all matrimonials ever wanted was a slim and b'ful lady
If this was an MCQ, I'll be the none of these
It's hard to fall in love again
Because I'm scared all men just want the body with curves and face like an angel
That the only things that should be big are your **** and your ***
Because who gives a **** about a big heart
It's hard to fall in love again
Because the words that he said in the past still haunt me, telling me that I'm not good enough
Pretty enough, **** enough, anything enough to be loved
It's hard to fall in love again
Because eventhough I read quotes on how beauty comes from within, it's proved wrong with every single encounter
Which leads to be believe that all that movies and books ever taught us about romance is absolute ********
That the only reason Jack ever loved Rose was because, well, she was ******* hot
It's hard to fall in love again
Because people don't see that you're born with the skin but it takes effort to build the soul
Because the skin will form wrinkles and sag with time
But the soul and the mind won't
It's hard to fall in love again
Because I don't want to add more to my list of insecurities and brokenness which scar me forever
Because I don't want to dive down and down and down into my worn out self esteem
It's so ******* hard to fall in love again
So I laugh it off and joke around
But everytime I see you
I really, really want to fall in love again
But I'm scared that you'll do the same and break whatever is left of me
That you'll turn me inside out and rub my imperfections till they burn
That you'll laugh with your friends and say
Where did that ***** even gather the guts from to come up to me and say, "Hey man, I like you"
Like that's the worst thing anyone could ever say to you?
They say
Love is a drug
But I think I'm in rehab
They say
Don't be cynical about love because in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
It is as perennial as the grass
But I think I'm better off in a barren land
A place that can accept me for who I am
So the next time you ask,
"Are you dating someone?"
And I reply with a snort and say, "Huh, look at me. No one would want to be with me."
And you say, "No, looks don't matter and the personality-"
I'll punch you in the ******* face
Because to hell with all your crap
You won't want to be me even for a single day
You won't want to be the ugly girl standing in the corner of the hallway
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
A person like you should never have to go through what you have
No one deserves it, but especially someone like you.
I talked to you for 15 minutes and by the 8th minute I had tears rolling down my cheeks and my heart pulsated so sharply I thought I could see it through my shirt
God, why.
Mom. Cancer. Rehab. Chain. ******* Smoker.
Depression. Anxiety. Body dysmorphia. God, I am so sorry.
All the cliches in the entire world could not amount to the things I wish I could say to you, and one day make you believe.
All the times you saved me from my worst self, only to realize that while you had saved me, it was your own self that was delving deeper and deeper into its own defeat.
God.
Every time you would come up and give me a hug even when I barely knew you.
When I had no idea what you would mean to me, and how much your life would impact mine.
I am so sorry.
Sorry that your parent's were **** to you. That you didn't get the family you deserve, but made yourself such a strong, completely marvelous person.
I'm not romanticising any of the things you went through because I would never shed a good light on things that caused you so much suffering.
No, that's not it at all.
All the stories you told me tonight seemed too unbearable to be real.
But those stories are your harsh realities and I would trade everything I owned, all the money in my bank account, for you to stop what you do to yourself and the undo the numbness you've trained yourself to feel
you are NOT sad personified
you are NOT just *** appeal and sweet heartbreaker
you even know that my heart breaks, literally I can feel it, when you tell me, show me, paint ******* pictures for me of all the things you've dragged yourself through
I can't pick your feet up and carry you through, though.
God, how I wish I could.
You have to do it on your own, I know you can.
But I just ******* hope you'll follow through in your terrifying, mystifyingly horrible promise of, "Maybe I'll stick around until then"
.
.
.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 11:53 PM UTC
Challenges punctuate our lives with question marks.
We ask ourselves, “How long?” So we dream.
We wonder about each other. So we believe.
We concern ourselves with each other’s welfare. So we pray.
We doubt our wisdom. So we trust our hearts.
We second guess ourselves. So we act in faith.
We question our tomorrow. So we cherish the present.
We fear the question marks that have punctuated our lives.
So we build walls;
Walls to hide from our fear, walls to hide from our frustration,
And walls to hide from our feelings.
Let us never build walls that would cut us off from the world,
Or from each other.
Within the circle of our fellow strugglers,
Our thoughts are punctuated with fewer question marks,
And from time to time - a simple period.
Here with each other, it's not as difficult to wait for the answer.
And the walls don't seem as challenging to climb.
Whatever our question,
We can dare each other to dream.
And in this time of testing, we can hope for the answer,
An answer that will be different for every one of us.
An answer that punctuates each of our lives
With an exclamation point!
©2014 Michael S. Davis
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
On road trips
we would use each other
as pillows
Brother to window
sister to shoulder
brother to shoulder
sister to window
Are we there yet?
I mean,
Are we grown up yet?
Brother to work
sister to rehab
brother to work
sister to school
No matter the pattern
we all appear
leaning on love
and blood
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:36 PM UTC
flying juniper arrows
fell asleep by the meadows
struck my body with vengeance
that night you screamed at me sweetly
made me tear at my covers
blackbelt in bedsheet karate
i was the kid in rehab who
my counselors let
watch movies
past my bedtime
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
Day One:
A voice speaks to me.
When you realize that being lost is so close to being found, you see a sea of family members plagued within the lineage of licentious newborns and hospital beds. You become yourself, a lisp.
Day Two:
Long ago in a city left unscorned he was torn, from the cokeheads and colorful regimes, angels sing long songs of separation anxiety and **** withdrawal. I was torn from the deadbeats of supposed society and three day vicodin trips into my mind. So can you let me know when I get there? ‘Cause I left there running…I wonder, did someone ever tell you that two strangers could twist around your neck at beck and that three parked cars and seventeen lonely nights could haunt you for the rest of your faces.
Day Three:
Tell me of your drug induced hallucinations.
Day Four:
Wait. Hear. Can’t you listen to the relapse? Stop, think. No. gone. Left. Love. Return. My curious addiction. Go back into yourself and listen. Can’t you hear your soul call to me? It’s loud.
Day Five:
I remember prizes at the bottoms of cereal boxes, right before the net broke. Will you be first? Snap back to reality.
It’s dark in here. Wretch from me… I am crying, screaming,
haha! I’m melting inside!
Day Six:
By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower, but the seed inside
Caked over in grief, we are not plates that match. But fools of folly caught in a sea of coke and disillusioned discord. Speed stands between directing and orders to death’s soldiers.
Day Seven:
The difference between God and his counterpart is that he makes exceptions!
Except me.
Day Eight:
Accept me!
Please.
Wait.
No.
don’t slow,
speed.
I can only take so much forgiveness,
is a decision, and I cannot make it.
I am without it, leave me breathless.
Day Nine:
The angel of death waits
He comes for me, but I am running, finding, hiding my inner Nemo in the hands of oxycodon, privileged in the amenities of amphetamines.
I am tired of running!
Haggard.
Take away my hands, my restraints.
Let me feel
again.
Please.
Day Ten:
I am awake.
There is an apple in my field of vision.
Kiss it. Love it.
Take it to hedonism and back again.
But it knows too much.
So tell it everything will be ok.
It lives in epilepsy.
So placate it.
Resurrect my apocalypse.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
On the day that I lost my name
I took a nice long walk
To the edge of infinity,
Searching for it
You know, they say the earth is round
And as I leaned to peer over the side of it
There, lay a vast blanket of outer space
No continuous ground— like they said
No path to move on from
Dead-end roads and deadened feet
Had led me to this edge, where
I cut myself on contemplative thorns
“At what point did he stop loving me?”
“My friends are gone”
“Rehab couldn’t fix me”
“I don’t want to wake up tomorrow”
No, the world isn’t round
My thoughts are round
And so are my vices
Always spinning and falling
Into a perpetual mental cycle
So when I looked beyond the cliffs of my flat Earth
Into the depths of nothingness
I pondered what it would feel like
To
tippy
toe
my way over
To lose myself forever
If I never wake up tomorrow
Would they remember my name?
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
You are my ******
The ever-nagging drug addiction
That keeps tugging at my strings
No matter the rehab I have done upon my soul,
Regardless how bad I know you are for me -
But you were worse.
You could never be my Heroine,
The one who saves me from my worst,
To be the last, the only, by my side,
To hold my hand and be my strength when I fail,
Telling me, no matter what the stars say,
Everything is going to be fine -
But you could never be that.
You are my ******
That which I will always desire
- no matter how long I have been clean of you -
But I now know its not the love affair I thought it once was,
I bear the emotional scars like needle marks,
Those I used to hide, I now wear open and honest, telling what you did,
And somehow,
You were always worse.
Jun 18, 2011
Jun 18, 2011 at 6:36 PM UTC