I cannot remember ten years ago
Perhaps the days have been both good and bad
I am still here, which is good I suppose
There are no photographs or memories
Nothing to celebrate - no photographs or memories
Inside I whisper to myself - I am still here
I have very few intentions - keep sober, stay safe(er)
At the moment that feels enough
My skin can account for ten years
The absences and hallucinations also
They ring as loud and clear as church bells
I am lucky that I have more chances - or choices
I hope the next ten years will be softer and gentler
That I will continue to tend the fire inside.
