Permanent Creases

Years apart I still feel your ache. A ferocious drug as deadly as it is sweet.

As sober as I am the temptation is still there. 

I'm startled by the hollow clamor of memory. Like so many empty cans. 

Life is many winters interrupted by the occasional summer. 

It's a choice, even when it isn't. To survive or to surrender. 

We're mostly dying, but once in a while we get to live. 

We don't get to choose how. We must take it as it's given. 

 I once was. But I am no longer the victim that you need.