Sobriety and Me

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Sobriety doesn’t say a word,

Simply creates nights no longer blurred.

It takes the chair beside my pain,

No judgement passed; no need to explain.


It doesn’t flinch at empty air,

Or reach to fix what lingers there.

No loud escape; no practiced cheer,

Just steady breath when fear draws near.


It waits patiently when my hands forget their calm,

While my memories ache, raw and unarmed.

While grief stands up, clears out its throat,

And sinks me deep instead of keeping me afloat.


It makes no promises; gives no golden praise,

No finish lines, just brighter days.

Just one soft vow, both stark and true:

“I’ll sit here only if you stay too.”


Some nights it feels so small; so thin,

Just shadowed hope against my skin.

It watches as old ghosts appear,

The ones I swore were nowhere near.


But morning comes—it hasn’t moved,

Not swayed by falls, or nights I bruised.

Unimpressed by what I survive,

It knows it is what keeps me alive.


But sobriety alone won’t save my soul,

Won’t lift me out or make me whole.

It only stays, quiet and near,

While I learn to live and learn to steer.


And in that silence, firm and true,

I found the strength to follow through.

Not rescued or cured, just finally free,

Truly living now, sobriety and me.


©️ Wonderland Wanderess 2026

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