When we first met you’d smoke cigarettes as we laughed at sunrise. Working on what you promised of a dream.
You were living in a sober house, cracked walls, leaking ceiling.
Yet you felt like home.
I knew you had your nightmares everyone does.
You manipulated me, there were so many warning signs.
I don’t know how I stayed for so long or how I survived. All I know is I watched you almost die too many times.
Your choice is heroine. My choice used to be you.
But now I’ve called a lawyer and started smoking the cigarettes you hated the most too.