The Flood

Winds rage around me,
as I make my way to the
darkest corners of the earth.
- My own clear mind.
 
The difficult thing about
sobriety is that I am forced
To deal with the things
I once turned a blind eye to.
 
Now, impossible for me
to separate the feeling of
innate fear and the longing
for undeniable intimacy,
 
It’s been three months,
eleven days, and six odd hours
since I made the necessary
decision to live again.
 
When I awoke, I found myself
facedown on the cold, hard tile
of my own bathroom floor.
I couldn’t stand.
 
Bottles were scattered with
the evidence you left behind.
I’m still unsure where the
Black-eye came from.
 
Not remembering
terrifies me. It reminds
me that there are things
in life I can’t control.
 
Fleeting moments of
simplistic normalcy help me
forget that I am a
shipwrecked vessel.
 
Hours pass as I search
frantically inside of
my heart and soul
for dry land.
Other days are wasted
treading zombie-like
through familiar hallways
forgetting where I’ve been.
 
I am ashamed that I didn’t
do the things that I tell other
women to do. I am ashamed
that I feel ashamed.
 
I’m aware it wasn’t my fault,
that there’s a chance I couldn’t
have even stopped you sober, 
but there was a chance I could.
 
I try to remind myself
I’m dealing with pain
In the very best way
I know how, still
 
I’ll no longer trust
anyone without reason.
I am the only one committed
to protecting myself.
 
How does one escape the
constant flood of questions?
Sincere, but every single
one is a dark reminder.
 
I can’t imagine how anyone
has survived a lifetime with
this feeling. I can hardly
make it through the day.
 
I tell myself that I will be ok.
That I am stronger than the
sickening ache in my stomach
I feel every time I’m touched.
 
I hope that one day I’ll wake up
and that will be true.
That somehow soon I will
outrun these shadows.