Can't call 911 for this,
I can't save you this time.

Open the curtains for the first time in ages.
The walls weep,
dripping yellow-brown nicotine,
crying brown tears for you.
Carpet stained spots of brown black blood,
a macabre Jackson *******.
Stained, sweat-soaked sheets smell,
the stench of withdrawal and agony.
**** and mold growing on the toilet,
like tiny bonsai trees.

The sun catches your face,
lightly touching a cheek-bone,
saying goodbye in it's own way.
Hazel eyes wide open,
mouth frozen,
a sort of painful grimace.

I want to clean it all away.
I want to scrub every wall,
every moulding,
every inch.
Bleach it all white.
Pull the **** across a giant etch-a-sketch of the scene.
And when it's clean,
When all of it is finally clean...

I will cover every wall like a canvas, with every note you ever left me.
Top to bottom,
wall to wall,
I will paint your words.
When I was away too long and you missed me,
when you wanted to cheer me up,
Or when you just wanted to say,
"I love you".

I look in the water,
An image staring back at me.
It seems the image knows me better than
I know myself.
I don't know identity,
Just hide it.
No one knows I can't know myself,
They see who I let them see.
"Trust me," the mirror says,
"You'll be… more real."
But I know the mirror
Is just me, but a reflection.
Except
A clean reflection.
Me as I was born, as I will die,
An exact me.
Except
I wish this water would
Show me solutions and not the problem.
But
No one needs to know I looked in the water,
They'll never see what I saw.
The mirror,
It's just for me, it's all my choice.
But
I can't forget I am not who I think.
I can hardly know my deepest self.
The mirror knows:
I am not myself. I am the reflection.