Poem by Lila Danielle liladanielle.com
It’s been twenty years
since I saw his chest rise,
then fall for the last time.
The room became so still
for just a few moments
it was as though
the entire world had stopped breathing.
It’s been four-and-a-half years
since I moved to an island
where those insidious machines don’t exist.
Twenty six hundred miles separates me
from the uncontrollable urge to play games
where no one ever really wins
and where everyone holds their breath for a potential payout.
It’s been three months
since I received the words,
“I’m sorry” in an early morning text.
I had no idea they meant goodbye
and would take my breath away
when I found out on Facebook the next day
he’d killed himself the day before.
It’s been a week
since my friend came precariously close
to crossing over.
Her lungs have furiously fought for breath
for most of her life
and today, as she lays in the hospital healing,
I Thank God she’s still here.
A beloved’s death.
A dangerous addiction.
A broken heart.
A life-threatening emergency.
The list goes on.
An illness.
Chronic pain.
A job lost.
A bad decision.
Failure.
Abandonment.
Anger.
Betrayal.
An old wound.
A new scar.
We’re all healing from something
and we all breathe the same air.
You Don't Look Sick Blog 
that poem is incredible. I started Suboxone therapy yesterday but got a good twenty years out of opiates. On the Suboxone it might not be as good of pain relief but the od risk, euphoria etc gone.
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