“She has forgiven me”
I wrote as if it matters
as if I know the difference
between relapse and one glass
between friendship and filled space
days to recharge, days I am ignored

Forgiving myself is harder
as I attempt to recover
and I look again to the teacher
to fuck me, to tell me:
you are worth anything

But am I motivated?
are my words and hours spent
worth it – am I still –
just a bartender, just full of pills
that make others sick
that might kill me, too

I am still sneaking in wine
and lying to the good doctor


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