12 Steps

Step 1: Admitted we were powerless and that our lives had become unmanageable. But I admitted that long before your lips knew my name. I shook hands with the darkness and deals had already been made. Step 2: Came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. By that point it was easy to see that I believed even a 12 watt light bulb burnt out still held more power than I did Step 3: Prayed to any God that would listen and hoped they checked their voice-mail regularly. Step 4: Pieced together the butterfly wings and dimes from dark alleyways. Pinned red string between the people we used to be and these more recent newspaper clippings. Step 5: Admitted to the 12 watt light bulb, to ourselves, and to the only other person we could trust the depths of our confessional. I watched her lips entranced as they moved in the mirror. Step 6: Said enough. I dug out old running shoes and stole your shoe laces. The ones they wouldn't let you have beyond the locked white doors. Step 7: I humbly asked the 12 watt light bulb to go off over my head for 's sake just once. Step 8: They told me you made a list of all those you'd harmed. I wonder how many times you wrote my name, and at which point you finally wrote yours. Step 9: I guess you didn't make it this far because my voice-mail still sits silent. Step 10: I laced up those shoes and ran. Fast and Far. Kept taking Step after Step until my ribs screamed for air and I could finally laugh again. Step 11: I changed out that 12 Watt for one that glows steady. Step 12: I bask in the glow of the new light without the fear of the darkness I outran. The closet monsters can't touch me now. No darkness is more frightening than my own, and deals have already been made.