Across state lines again. Running from myself, running from you.
And my boy rests his head on mine,
noses touching,
eyelashes fluttering,
and I don't know if I can keep this up for too long.
This facade that I am unaware of the delusional tendencies and the fact that I've been drinking every night, thinking about it every morning.
How can I manage sixty days clean
and then throw it away like it's nothing?
how my boy tells me he will be here no matter what.
And they say, little girl, stop running. Find God and a way to keep your hands from shaking. But I've never been one to be steady.
he buys me diamond rings,
and shows me his sunray eyes
his scars, he hides
and all I have is promises that I don't know how to keep
the reasons he weeps
I don't know how to be good for him
no lies; all sobriety
how do you make the nightmares
Go away if that's all you've ever seen.
I'm sweating at night like the drugs are coursing out my veins;
back in the cutting board room full of group therapy
and how this is a mental disease, not a moral deficiency.
I'm adamant about this fact when I want to be. As soon as my father is brought up in conversation, I am banging my fists on how it was his choice and my family's misery.
Maybe, one day, I won't think of childhood as a despairing thing.
More nostalgia, less anxiety.
Chasing fairies and eating peach cobbler
my father's sea eyes and my ma's button nose.
I think nathan is the first man to love me
wholeheartedly and holy
