#getting clean

Withdrawal is a clock with no numbers just a pulse you can't escape

Your skin forgets how to fit hangs loose on bone and regret every nerve a live wire begging for the old familiar fire

Sleep becomes a rumor You lie there counting cracks in the dark listening to your stutter like it's trying to quit before you do

Sweat beads like confession cold one second, burning in the next a fever that doesn't heal just reminds you what you've lost

Your hands betray you first shaking like they remember how to reach for something you swore you'd bury

And your mind your mind becomes a cruel archivist replaying the high in perfect detail polishing in into something holy while your body begs on its knees

Time stretches thin as paper minutes cut like glass every second whispers just one more would fix this

But you sit in it you sit in the ache, the crawl, the scream because somewhere under all that noise is a quieter voice saying

stay

Stay through the storms in your veins through the ghosts in your bloodstream through the version of you that wants to disappear

Tw below the line.

my name is cherry, i’m 19 and i started this blog to get everything off my chest and to clear my mind, for anonymity reasons none of my friends names or any locations mentioned (except foreign countries) are real. i feel like this will be a good place to open up and be free and truly cherry! this is just the beginning.

Addiction is a quiet room where promises pace the floor a clock with hands that tremble pointing back to just once more

It hums like comfort, sharp as need a borrowed light that dims the day it swears it’s love, it feels like air then teaches breath the cost to stay