4 Short Poems About Addiction, Recovery & The Emotional Roller Coaster It Comes With

Poems By Writerfly

A note from the poet:

I started writing circa 2001 and it had become an obsession, something that was completely and absolutely mine. Paper was an unbiased third party who passed no judgement. Between the lines held all my feelings, desires, thoughts and pain. It was an outlet from everything that affected me here in the outside world.

As time wore on, I realized that writing had the ability to connect with those around me. It was the most poignant gift I could give to you, to make you feel that for a moment, you were not alone. That no matter what you were battling, the scars you feel, the demons you face, I feel it too. Together, we can get through it, we just can't give up. Hope - Hold On, Pain Ends. - writerfly' 

Writerfly is on Instagram with the username writerflyproductions; you can email her at writerflyproductions@gmail.com 

Relapse

​I am
Cold to the touch.

I wanted
Too much.

The world in my hand
I was hoping to clutch

I was searching for meaning
My demons convening 
In need of the feeling
That kept me from healing

AND SET ME APART.

The only thing beating,
Inside of me, screaming,
From choking to breathing
My heart was left, bleeding.

Collapsed on the pavement 
Cement of the basement 
Writhing,
I repent. 

On this linoleum floor
My angels are dying
And still,

I want more.

Contemplation

Be careful with that.
Well, it's running in my vein.
The devil on my shoulder
Is nestled in my brain.
Every time i think about it,
Im boxed in underground
Eluding all the answers
As I buy another round
Walking past the mirrors
Im not looking at myself
Im staring at the noose
Thats hanging from my shelf.
There could be a comfort there.
A certain kind of peace.
While I'm stuck inside this chapter,
I am lost within the crease.

Aftermath

​He doesn’t even hear the phone.
His skin is melted to the  bone. 
Flicking lighters, getting higher.
He awaits to beg the buyer
To get more, to get more, 
His body aches and then it’s sore. 
It’s the rush, it’s the sting
All the comfort that it brings
Til it’s gone, til it’s ceased
To his knees. Amen. Now, peace. 
Carry on. This isn’t real. 
Keep the secret. That’s the deal.
I’ll keep quiet. I will hide it. 
I will do my best to fight it.
But the horse is at the water,
I am the lamb and this is slaughter. 

Cleansing

You don't want to meet me here
Torn between my hope and fear
A fallen angel lurking near
Is looking for an honest ear
The angels in a demons cloth 
Impurities into the wash
A strength of which the weak will watch
When time is at a pricely cost 
But you cannot teach the blind to see 
Only feel, only be, 
An insight that must come from thee:
To absolve the soul; I set it free.