I glance at the bottle,
my hand, her heart,
back to the hand,
where rests the same--
white pills that keep me going.

I stare at the white,
the colour of innocence,
purity, and now grief,
and instant pleasure.

To lose you would be,
the last thing that happens to me,
I can't take another loss,
I can't cope with all this debris.

You can't fix me, you can try,
to help and give reassurance,
so many others have,
but things always go awry.

I will stop, I swear I will,
this is the one habit,
I have to ****.

I'm sorry I am this way,
maybe you should just forget about me,
leave, and don't stay
so you can save yourself from,
the cloud of pain that surrounds
my broken heart.