I could have lost you
so very many times.

That long, dark corridor
claimed your strength and salience;

those vicious creatures
seeped into your aching spaces.

You did your best to
empty your soul of them –
when that didn’t work
you emptied your veins.

The righteous rattle of
black bottles merely kept you there –
fading the glow of doorframes
and taking away the handles.

Where could you go but away?

And yet here you are! In health.
Even, (dare I say?) in happiness.

I know the corridor calls you still
and the black bottles
are still sweetly on offer.

Hear their call, dearest one.

But, like sailors with
the sirens of the sea,
pass them by –

for your earthly spends
have only just begun.