Still think we’ll be sober by November?
Thankfulness screaming to the worshipers
left to cry!
Leaving all this behind me.
Behind us won’t seem to.
Tolerate much more distance.
And I pull me, push you
away from my scars and
the pain you will feel.
Still thinking we’ll be sober
enough to hold one another close?
Enough not to fall away?
Enough not drift away?
This path of least resistance, leaves me hollow
and you see me, as something indifferently
unable to accept the love that you’re
giving to me!
Oh, I must…
Oh, I trust…
And I’m face down in myself and my
arrogance that you can’t see and
the trinity and severance by hurt
of the agony, of shoving you to the wide open
arms of another!
Days gone by.
Picking up precious reminders.
Of how unholy this can be!
Four becomes two becomes none
leaves you vulnerable confused
and fading and falling and flailing
in the horrendous!