I carry with me, my souvenirs of the past.
Reminders of what I long for,
But also what I hope to never have again.
For, what I sacrificed, I never should have.
My dignity, pride, and morals
Always for the craving.
The touch, the soothing words.
A false foundation that I never saw.
My love made me blind,
A simple affection-addict,
Who gave herself, and thus had nothing.
Nothing returned, but the same old drug.

Now I see
As a recovering addict, I must leash my heart.
Wait for a true partner,
Where trust, truth, and respect will be returned.
No more begging, no more jealousy of the happiness of others.
I could then stand on my own,
Be proud of who he is too.
Equals facing the world together.

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Miraman, in the year 292 AF.