Just simply trying to get by.
We're all addicted to something that takes the pain away.
Sometimes on long car journeys, I look down and see my hands linked inside each other and I become aware of how warm and soft and safe they feel.
And never am I wishing one of them was yours because it’s wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant.
Skin is an itchy coat that only gets kinder with age.
I got a lot prettier when I realised I didn’t give a shit about what anyone else thought.
I have to break my fingers apart though; Just to compare to how cold I felt before.
This is what recovery always is for me.
I dip my toe just so I am sure that what I have now is better.
If you enter the river blindfolded you’re bound the fall into the current
But the air you breathe when you splutter to the surface will be lightest brightest air you ever filled yourself with.
When I’m really thirsty. Truly, bad taste in the back of my throat thirsty, I get myself the coldest glass of water and pretend like it’s the first water I’ve ever tasted.
I’m not religious but there is magic in a pint glass of icy water and sticky parched tongue. Miracles have happened for less and I’m not about to argue with the suggestion that I spend too much time in my head, I know I do, but I wouldn’t spend a second in anyone else’s.
I wish more people linked their own hands for long periods of time and stopped
Pretending that they aren’t both their own. You need to learn to trust your hands to touch your own body without it combusting because it’ll be a holocaust if some else’s touches you first.
This is not a poem about failure; I know that now.