Letter to an Addict
It’s right for me to call you what you are. 
That face that breaks with smiles and frowns, 
Takes the sun in and calls it wisdom. 
They say every time you learn something new 
You get another wrinkle in your brain, 
But it seems that every time you forget something you once knew 
Another crow buries it’s foot in your face. 
And you did, 
You use to know so much, 
Witty and sarcastic and not afraid of this world, 
Anyway. 
Your shoulders were iron 
And your lips were as plump and ripe 
As a summer-kissed anything. 
And you loved a little but mostly fucked. 
Loved that you could fuck without love. 
You were what you will never be again. 
Your life now is early bedtimes 
After bitter drinks. 
You sink into the sheets and through the bedsprings. 
Travel places only devils dare. 
And when you wake you stare into the mirror 
Wishing you could write a poem to say 
What this poem has once again failed to say 
And who knows if it will ever be said.

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