I’ve been in love before.
It came alive gracefully, lived on beautifully, and died tragically.
Yeah, I’ve been in love before.
I’ve been in it,
Like it was a small glass box just bigger than the size of my heart.
The glass of each wall was all fogged up, concealing what else the world had in store for me. All I saw was the world in front of me. All my eyes could see was what was right in front me.
A man, a boy, a soul, a lover...
Someone I called,
Mine.
And I never thought I’d ever have to leave it,
Or throw away the love that built up strong and sturdy within me.
I was in love the same way I was in trouble.
I was in love the same way I was in harm’s way.
I was in love the same way I was in quicksand.
I had a wristwatch on the whole time, I knew we were coming to an end, and I was waiting impatiently staring at the second hand expecting an eruption of disaster and hate to spew over us and drown us in goodbyes.
I knew everything was at stake but there was nothing I could do to save us.
We were a China cup falling to concrete,
It was too late to save us.
And all I could do was watch in slow motion as everything we ever dreamed of becoming shattered into a million pieces.
Neither of us wanted to take responsibility,
Neither of us wanted to sweep up the remains.
Neither of us wanted the extra chore.
So instead of cleaning up the war zone of hate versus love; we walked away.
We turned our backs and headed separate directions, walking on a bed of the broken bits that we used to be.
The pain seared into our feet and each sliver of broken love was a constant reminder of the fact that we had perished.
The bloodstains made me cry and I wondered if you ever looked upon your scars the same way I looked upon mine, a representation of the best way I’ve ever been hurt. By the love of my life.
I never thought I’d stop bleeding I never thought I’d begin healing, because how can a wound heal if the pain digs deeper each and every day?
Our love was so fucking true and pure that I began to think love itself was the strongest force among us.
But as I watched in pity as we fell and hit the floor,
Traumatized by the impact and left bewildered upon the idea that we were no more…
I began to feel that pain was the strongest force to exist.
And I checked back everyday to see if you had  truly given up.
I woke up early and met in our meeting place waiting for your return, but the closer I came to you the further you walked away.
And I gave up on spending my time traveling to your lost heart and began to travel towards recovery.
The constant crawling wore out my knees and made me weak.
I checked on my heart everyday to note progress, and each day was slow.
The hands in the clock upon my wrist moved even slower than they did as I awaited our death.
And the second that I chose to give up on chasing recovery, is when I realized that recovery is not a destination.
It doesn’t have a street address for me to find,
A front door for me to knock on.
It’s a path to walk upon,
Crawl upon,
Skip upon,
Dance upon.
And man, I’m still dancing.
And I’m too busy dancing to get knocked off my feet again, so walk this road with me friend.
Dance with me.
Recovery is looking for you.
Recovery is a dance,
Recovery is a song,
Move your hips and forget about singing out of tune,
This is your song,
This is your path,
And you don't walk it alone.
You walk the path of recovery with many other lost beings that are still learning to unveil the realization that above love, above hate, and above pain...
We, the hearts of the damaged, are stronger than the force of love, the force of pain, and any single force the human brain could conjure up.