Crumbles


I fall to the floor in hopes that you find me there.  The shower is running over me and masking my tears. I have so much to say but don’t have the words to say it. I thought if I touched you you would feel my pain and regret. But you rolled over, so cold. 

It’s amazing that I’m walking. I feel paralyzed by my heart. I’m consumed with jealousy and its lead me nowhere good. The addict in me is screaming, but I don’t have a voice to yell.  

I crumble when you leave. I watch you walk away and get into the car. I don’t want this to carry on. I want to cry in your arms and tell you that I’m fucked up and you’ll see that glimmer in my eyes and know the love is still there. Robotic Kisses; silence. Even a hot cup of coffee won’t break the tension and bring you back to me. 

“I love you,” you say as walk by looking to the ground. Ear buds plug up your soul from hearing my silent pleas. A couple of zombie addicts, tossing and turning. I want to make it ok again. I miss you. But my breath falls short of anything productive. So I sit and cry. 

My orange chair of comfort gives me small hope. The sign above says “let’s dare to be ourselves, for we do that better than anyone else.” But I don’t want to be me. Cause I’m a mess, in love, who doesn’t know how to love. I’m an addict in recovery, trapped in her isolation. I’m a sleep deprived sales man who has to hide and fake a smile. Fake it till you make it. Maybe that’s why I crumble. Crumble inside these walls of fear. I tried to let you in, but your back was all I got. This foundation is crumbling under us. The house we built on love is busted. I want to seal the cracks. I want to make it brand new, but all I see is your back, walking away. And I crumble. 

The space inbetween


We lay silently next to each other. The awkward silence eats away at my heart. The space Inbetween is grows deeper and feel lost. For the first time ever that I am with you I feel alone, although you are by my side. 

I crave your touch and affection, but know that I burnt that bridge earlier with rash comparisons to my ex. The smell of your cigarettes took me back to a place I no longer want to live within. The memories flooded my brain, and thoughts of using resurfaced. I could have asked nicer, I could have kept it to myself, I should have stayed silent.  Codependent qualities take hold and I can feel myself lose barring. Why? Why now?

I resent your recovery because my isn’t as successful. I needed to turn my will over and I couldn’t. I’m still blocked off to the world of addicts helping addicts and don’t know how to ask for help. I resent that you do and I can see you make connections I have longed. 

My selfish self consuming obsession is taking hold and I’m scared. Relapse lives on the path of isolation and  I can’t seem to roll over to touch you. The space grows deeper as I hold my tears inside and swallow my pride so as not to wake you. I can’t let on that I hurt.  You know it, I know you know, and still I can’t say what I feel. Cause I don’t feel like I’m enough. I don’t feel good enough for you. I feel like a complete and utter failure. I am becoming that addict I need to release. 

I feel myself pushing you away. Things got to good. And I’m scared. Too fast. Out of control. I don’t know how to love myself. How can I love you? And when I crawl away you follow me into the darkness. I’m grateful you love like that, but terrified to lead you into my heart.