The day after I relapsed,
I went quietly about life.
I showered in cold water
And I ate a bagel with cream cheese
For breakfast.
The day after I relapsed,
I held back tears as the water
Ran down my legs and stung
My cuts, and I covered my face
When Momma bandaged them.
The day after I relapsed,
I skipped lunch.
I skipped my evening shower.
I skipped talking.
I skipped writing.
The day after I relapsed,
I wanted to die.
I thought about finding
The key to the med box and
Taking all the pills I could grab.
The day after I relapsed,
I downed an entire bottle of
Sparkling cider, and I
Went to watch my brother’s
Baseball game. He lost.
The day after I relapsed,
I told myself it wasn’t that bad,
They weren’t as deep as last time. (I lied)
I ran my hands over my skin
To feel what I’d done to myself.
The day after I relapsed,
I stood in front of the mirror
With my pants off.
I listened to the harshness
Of the silence and thoughts.
The day after I relapsed,
I didn’t look anyone in the eye
And I walked slowly because
The bandages chafe if you
Carry too much weight.
The day after I relapsed,
I woke up and stared at the
Ceiling, at the clock,
Anything to keep from looking
At the blood on my hands.
The day after I relapsed,
I woke up and I
Breathed.
It was over.
That had to be it.
(It wasn’t)