I use the drugs to forget you.
But for some reason when I’m so high I can’t remember my name, but I can remember the first time I meet you.
I get reminded of the butterflies I got when you pushed my hair behind my ear.
I remember our first time together, and how gentle you were.
But I also live through you leaving me again.
How you said, “I can’t handle you anymore.” I was “just to much baggage.”
You got clean before I did, you got your life together.
I was just weighing you down.
I guess I get it, no one wants to take care of someone who can overdose at any point.
But I took care of you.
And in return you introduced me to a world I never knew.
You left me because the gift you gave me started coming before you.
I don’t know why I could think getting high would make me forget you.
Once my warmth feels my body, I can feel you with me again.
—  Sometimes I’m mad you had me try it. Sometimes I thank you because it’s the only think keeping me alive without you.