ninety days sober
and a week ago I washed
my hands
of your sins.
the blood drained
from my face
and the weight
lifted from my shoulders.
but the tightness in my chest
subsided.
nothing prepares you
for the fall of
what you once
believed to be your
empire.
nothing prepares you
for the craving of
normalcy, like a drug.
ninety days sober
and I'll forever
be washing
the crimson blood stains
of your soul from my hands.
the same soul
that pulled apart my own
like prey to your
darkness.
because that's all
you'll ever provide,
darkness in a sea of light.
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