they had to watch you the first night you were there;
your body was shaking and your mind was strained
and the librium wasn't helping.
you sat with me the next day
and I examined your tall,
gangly frame.
your eyes were
the color of a lake in indiana.
you held the door for me
every time
and hid a photograph of your mother
in your plain black sock.
one day
you told me that the drugs
weren't to get high anymore,
they were to get normal.
you cried when I left
and i cried because you cared.
"i'll miss you!
love you"