i've been dry for a year now, officially. i don't mean from booze, i mean from attachment. i've been dry from co-dependence. it was an unofficial goal i'd set for myself, and i have achieved it. i've spent the last 12 months getting to know me better. figuring out my wants and needs, instead of hanging around being whatever someone else needed.
i miss being what someone else needed. mostly because it's one of those spaces that i'm comfortable in, because i know what to do when i'm there. but i was tired of doing it for reasons that weren't mine, other than the need to be needed and not feeling that i was allowed to need anything for myself. i don't know what to say anymore about it, so i'll end that ramble before it starts to annoy me.
one night to be confused, one night to speed up truth. we had a promise made, four hands and then away. both under influence. we had divine sense to know what to say. mind is a razor blade. to call for hands above to lean on wouldn't be good enough. for me, no. one night of magic rush. the start, a simple touch. one night to push and scream and then relief. ten days of perfect tunes, the colors red and blue. we had a promise made, we were in love. to call for hands above to lean on wouldn't be good enough, for me, no. and you, you knew the hand of the devil. and you kept us awake with wolves' teeth sharing different heartbeats in one night. to call for hands above to lean on, wouldn't be good enough, for me, no.
it's things you have to do for yourself, see. no one approaches it the same way. what's that riding on your everything? it isn't anything at all. gotta see, gotta know right now. what's that writing on your shelf in bedrooms and bad motels? i wanna go back to sleep. the emotions, and the things that you say, it all will fall, fall right into place, as fruit drops. everything will fall right into place. gotta see, gotta know right now. what's that riding on your everything? it isn't anything at all.
we settle down to cut ourselves apart. cough and twitch from the news on your face and some foreign candle burning in your eyes. held to the past, too aware of the pending. chill as the dawn breaks and finds us up for sale. into the fog, another low road descending, away from the cold loss, your house, and summertime. blind to the last cursed affair, pistols and countless eyes. trail of white blood betrays the reckless route your craft is running. loiter the whole day through and lose yourself in lines, dissecting. we've turned over stones, looked for all our inventions. in matters of love lost, there's no recourse at all. lose yourself in lines, dissecting.
