Burning Coals & Hothouse Flowers

You’re right. I don’t knowwhat it’s liketo be a recovering addictwrestling with recovering every daytaking depressing doses of anti-depressants every daycarrying scary psychic scars every dayshedding self-defense always doing for othersspreading oneself so thin exposing thinnest of skin.You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like.But I do know what’s it’s liketo live with such a personto love such a person.

It’s like walking barefoot on eggshellsscattered over broken glassstrewn over burning coalssurrounded by hothouse flowersso fragile they release paralyzing pollenif you sneeze on themor if a chill breeze breathes on themor if you glance askance at themwhile you’re searching scramblingscuffling desperatefor a deal any dealon no-fault insurance.