Recovery

There’s a certain feeling When you close the door behind you. Freedom that comes Only with emotional safety. I don’t know where I don’t know how Not ever sure why I accepted an invitation to spend the rest of “Our lives together” Fast forward a week: red flags Fast forward two weeks: " " Fast forward a month He’s a goner. “You were willing to fight so hard for this I couldn’t be that kind of guy.” Huge, rolling, waving-in-the-wind Red Flag. Everything crashing down in heaps. Got the picture? Sleepless nights Abandoned days ALL WE HAVE IS HINDSIGHT. Reminding me painfully of the time before And the time before that And the time before that. Cannot recall the steady reliable influence of anyone Except the brutal rage of a tyrannical father, cruel sabotage of the evil Stepmother, And jealous antics of the Stepsister. Cinderella had it good! How do I deal With the pain, the shame, the confusion, and guilt Failure, embarrassment, mutilation, and horror Of yet another Failed Relationship? Pain so intense it wakes me at 3:00 AM ruminating miserably Good enough excuse for morning. I am as emotionally crippled as The Tin Man without oil. Four baths a day Ice cream by the tub Mind if I smoke? Just tell me where I blew it. Never will I ever share another man’s bed Until I’ve seen his spots The mask has slipped, And he stands As emotionally naked As I require of myself. Intimacy that brings you to your knees (on knees that no longer bend) I never believed in recovery. Until I closed that door Locked it And barricaded it.