And how messed up…


Am I to still secretly want the paperwork to go wrong and have you be released home with me? How messed up am I that secretly want to try, knowing you will probably break my heart, knowing I will probably never trust you, knowing we have a complicated love karma, and yet still hoping that against all odds….

How addicted am I to be talking to you like this, yet again, baring my soul, hoping for things to be different, like an insane sick person doing the same thing over and over

How messed up is it after all is said and done, I still love you so much it hurts. I still dream of your eyes, your touch, your laugh, making breakfast naked, 

I still cry myself asleep in bed cause it’s empty without you. 

Yeah, it’s not all on you. 

I’m that messed up too

I’m not done


They say you’ll know when you’re done. You’ll feel it intrinsically in your body. Every atom in you is ready to let go. I guess that means I’m not done.

Everyone says it’s time to move on. My head and my heart fight for who will make the next move. All logic says my head will win. Yet here I am rooting for the underdog. Logic can’t determine the actions of the heart. 

If I was a betting man I would put it all on the head. A head full of recovery. Odds are in the favor of recovery. Yet if I was a crazy insane person I put it all on the heart. A heart full of addiction, seemingly always wins. I guess that means I’m crazy insane. 

Here I am again. I’ve crossed this bridge before. I hope it will be different. It probably won’t be different. I need to cycle until I’m done cycling. I guess that means I’m not done.