1/23/2018 my best friend pt. 2I remember you stumbling up the stairs, coming home from nights you spent in strangers’ beds.
I could smell them on you. wherever you went, whiskey and cigarette smoke trailed close behind. you always came to me with a different scent lingering and foreign skin under your nails. I would ask where you had been, but you could never give me a straight answer. you probably didn’t even know where you had been. “you can’t keep doing this” I would begin to say, but every time I looked at you, you were already in my bed, deep in a drug-induced sleep. but I stayed for you. I waited with open arms every night for you to trip through the door and fall into me. I was the one who held you as your body shook with sobs that rattled your bones. I was the one to clean your vomit off the kitchen floor when you were still too drunk to realize that they kicked you out of the party hours ago. I was the one who wiped someone else’s blood from your hands and knees. when you were at your lowest, I sunk right down with you. but even I have a breaking point. eventually your weight on my shoulders became too much, my back broke with the burden of you and my bones began to splinter under your mass. I couldn’t carry you anymore. Comments are closed.
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