Recovery Is Just Another Word For Denial. in Always Recovering, Never Recovered.

The perfect practiced symmetry of you; I’ve missed you. The lucidity, the linear logic of your rules, a gold-glow champagne light I wrap around myself like warmth; I’m home.

The multi-edged promises in your prismatic eyes play elusive silken rainbows soft as song across my skin, you cut clear comet-tails through darkness. The light of you connects the stars, crystallises shattered cosmic chaos into diamond-chain cartography; a rhapsody in starlight written through the sky. I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you.

I went looking for you, you knew I would. A storm outside ripped winter-withered tree limbs from their wind-torn trunks, it pounded solid palms against the windowpanes, the air was bruised and swollen. I sat in darkness, wrapped in thunderclaps and trepidation, and I undid myself like parcel-string; I looked you up online.

I saw you, I saw you with your other girls.

The haunted ethereal faces of your other girls, pearl-grey pale translucent skin and hunted holes gouged gravelike where their eyes should be. Cage-bar ribs carved in pallid skintone tiger-stripes, wishbone legs and empty hollow-scooped stomachs, your elfin girls waft weightless; weeping willows wandering the catwalks of my dreams.

A moth in the flames of you, I am instantly alight, my wings on fire and burning. Glowing red, flying or falling; It feels just like being a butterfly.

In life I’m always lost and losing, you the only constant that I know in the confusion. The certainty and concrete and the cast-iron boundaries of your borders, the comforting clarity of simply knowing where I’m going. An irony, perhaps, that emptiness is the only way I know to feel complete.

Seventy-seven hours and the world already blurring to soft-focus at the edges, I am calm inside for the first time in what feels like forever. Relieved, excited, safe.

I can’t wait to look like myself again, a self I recognise.