you're a vacuum at this point.
you take in all the dirt,
but more often than that
you **** up your great grandmother's pearls.
to tear at one loose seam in the carpet,
and suddenly you're standing alone in a room full of yarn.
time is cold and unforgiving on the crinkles that
used to appear at the corners of your eyes when you smiled.
cold and unforgiving on beautiful hands that now claw at your skin waiting for its fix.

i don't remember what your smile looks like.