Sure, there are certain ones,
ones that seem so small,
that I still miss, even now.
A locked bathroom door.
Change in my purse.
Smooth legs.
Some I never cared for anyway,
Some I never notice now,
Even though they may be bigger.
Buying pills over the counter.
Judging others in a court.
Signing off on a loan.
Some I miss more than others.
A tall, cold Jack and coke
at the end of a long day,
A second, a third,
The indulgence of a bottle or two more.
I miss the thrill of
withdrawing it all,
Blowing roll after roll
On absolutely nothing at all,
Just having the cards.
But I have so many others now,
that I can hold in the palms of my hands,
knowing they won't cut me like shards of green glass.
I can wake without fear,
I can walk without stumbling,
I can be more, now, than I ever was before
when I was in the grip of a diagnosis,
I can taste the reality of the word
'Recovery', on my tongue,
so I would give them all up sooner,
If I could do it all again.
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