The woman behind the words is a recovering dependent, finding solace here, in these lines and pages.
Replacing one with another, I don't think they call this progress.
Lost between worlds living all loving none and when it stops all that remains is edges frayed
Finding comfort in consistency of this and that though there is nothing comforting about THAT consistency.
Wanting to test how much they care(at the risk of never finding out). Instead,
I sip my bourgeois brand of tea coupled with a reduced-fat coffee cake and wonder, just how commercial will life get?
His voice is therapy sought. Singing the pieces back from the cracks where life touches our fingertips.
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