The cold finger tips
of my past always push
they push and poke and prod
me in the small of the back
their touch is frozen
bound to soul to death to the memory
of bottles and mayhem and fear
and even after 10 years clean
I push at it like how your tongue
worries at a sore tooth...
I push too hard, trust too little
expect, fetishsize and seduce
midnight until I recognize my actions to punish myself until I decide
to just let the 5 year old me suffer, weep and rage and heal.
I reach for positivity, cling to and adore people who love, smile and inspire me.
Silje, you push back the darkness with your grin, silliness, laughter and power
You help, all the time, every day
So thank you, and that is why I write you. adunbar2021 (For ST)