You were the first hit.
The sting of the needle.
The hole rips into the pale, white forearm flesh leaving a constant reminder that I said "This is the last time."
When it wasn't.
I just wished I never picked you up.
I wish I never held you so dearly.
I wish you were as safe as drugs.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC
You were the first hit.
The sting of the needle.
The hole rips into the pale, white forearm flesh leaving a constant reminder that I said "This is the last time."
When it wasn't.
I just wished I never picked you up.
I wish I never held you so dearly.
I wish you were as safe as drugs.