100
When your man,
or almost man,
or never to be man,
calls.
When he promises he got it right this time,
and right means wrong,
after you’ve detoxed your whole self.
When he comes back high
and feeds you promises that bend,
and a spoon of overdue wishfuls,
You got to relapse.
You got to strap the belt to your arm,
boil down the ache,
needle his ego into your veins.
You got to pick up his responsibility and yours.
You got to understand.
After leaking promises that crack like tsunami glass,
you got to apologize to yourself when he won’t.
Sign 'I forgive you' on your tongue.
You got to swallow it.
Especially when it’s nasty,
when it hurts.
You got to shut up and understand.
You got to forget how you really feel.
You got to analogy and water down.
You got to settle,
and be okay with it.
You got to feel bad for wanting more.
You got to forget about wanting more.
You got to learn to balance on a scale that tips for balls he’ll never have.
You got to cut yours off and give it to him.
You got to be available,
even when you're not
You got to shoot up any man who's tried to save you.
You got to shoot down God when he tries to save you.
You got to beg God for the last hit.
You got to promise God it’s the last hit.
You got to relapse until there’s nothing left to burn.
Then you crash
And fall.
And bleed desperation.
And beg.
And try one last time.
You got to overdose
And die.
And rebirth.
And wake up whole again.
Knowing that was the last time.
Knowing there’s no going back.
Knowing there’s nothing to go back to.
You got to be sober forever.
And walk.
While his addiction to regret lingers behind you.
You got to watch him crumble,
And let someone else pick him up.
