We used to smoke **** together by the school.
You were practically my sister and I loved you.
You always had the good **** and you always had cigarettes.
After a while **** was not enough.
You showed up with ***** one day and we got *******.
This went on too long.
We feel into the habits our parents warned us against.
We blew off friends and family,
we lost relationships and trust but we had our **** and our *****.
We had each other and that was all we needed.
I remember when we shared our house and how happy we were.
I would go to school because you made me.
You would go to work so we could afford our life.
When you got home, always a quarter after six, we would drink.
One day, a Tuesday, you came home with junk.
You said it was good stuff, you knew the chemist who made it.
So we snorted.
That's when it all started.
We snorted, every time more and more.
After maybe three years that was not enough.
You were the first to stick that needle in your arm.
I followed with the same ******* needle.
Next was ****.
I stayed away from it but you shot up. Twice a day for months at a time.
You quit your job and cashed in the money we had been saving for a car.
I started to hate you.
I ******* hated you and I told you everyday.
Eventually I kicked ******'s demon off my back.
I smoked **** and watched you fall apart.
Their would be random guys at our house and you got only god knows how many diseases.
All so you could get your ******* fix.
A year ago today was the last time I saw you.
I hope you read this and I hope you ******* hate yourself, Carol Dean.