Quiet,
quiet,
quiet.
Eyes looking in every direction but me,
but the raw emotion on my sleeve.
The fear, perhaps,
that I am worthless.
Some god with a wasted gift,
I am no longer in your ranks,
I wasted it
                                         away.
I’m wasting
                                         away.
My cup was never full,
but you drank from it.
With sick, gluttonous gulps.
Gasping and gurgling my insides,
until your veins were pulsating
with the blood of two.
Overwhelming? Perhaps.
I wanted you so badly
to hold me together
to hold me up
to hold me down
to hold me in your sweet arms.
I loved myself, in you,
I did.
The kind that was infinite
and reached with hopeful fingertips
stretched out over eternity.
The kind that made me understand
the beauty
I wanted to be.

I could taste it then,
I could almost reach.
The purpose I served is unclear;
it is clear now that I am
                                        worthless
              ­                          in our eyes.

Not an explanation
nor a look of remorse,
no hidden smile
i could see.
We no longer care for the heights,
                                          for the taste,
                                          for me.
You climb on your own now
with others pushing you
upward.
They feed you
and once again you are
ravenous
for admiration.
                                           But not for me.

No, I need no nourishment,
it only makes me wobble.
I whimper inside
to the silent room,
it echoes from dusk ‘til dawn.
The fix, inhale and shoot.
Drugs and blood
they pump your heart and fire it
in wild directions.
You love it?
Who doesn’t?
An addiction we would all admit
to craving
one worth the
painful recovery.
                                              And I am a
                                               fix.
Momentary, but sweet.
The moments were sweet,
and still….

When nothing else
existed
but the threading of
two minds, connected.
The strange,
that was so impossible
so bittersweet
to us both.
I never felt such power;
a strong hit was all.
We devoured it so quickly
and the beauty we could almost reach
was
                                              gone.

In the dust forgotten now,
or that’s what I’d like to think.
                      Better to be forgotten
                      then noticed and
                                               not
                                               missed.