Him and his Addiction

This Night, I sit watching mindlessly the screen, with the volume turned down low. Avoiding the taunting gaze, of my gray telephone. It mocks me with its silence.

Im waiting so impatiently, for the specific ring tone I set. Yet still it sits quietly, cradled in my hands. He will not call. Im going to bed.

This night, I sit; looking threw my bedroom window, up towards the stars. Thinking of him, wherever he may be. Wishing he where well. If only that could be so... If only I knew, of some way to help (would he even let me?).

Teachers wont listen, and parents dont care. They just sit politely and stare. They don't see his silent cries for help. But I do. (Or is it just my wishful thinking) I sit by my dirty window, phone in hand, and pray for his sanctuary.

Im kept awake with memories, of us together. Would he remember? The times we shared? Or the laughs we exchanged? The fights we had... Some werent resolved.

But tell me. was it not time well spent?
Tell me, he hasnt forgotten me yet...

This morning, I lay upon the ruff, watching the stars fade into light blue. Holding my phone against my chest. Another sleepless night. I hope Im prepared, for his now haunting black eyes. Dilating uncontrollably, staring blankly at nothing.

eyes filled Without worries, filled without cares, free of responsibility. The escape He says he needs, is wrapped in white paper, and inhailed deeply. Is this his Sanctuary?

if so, youd think Id be content But no. I sit impatiently, everywhere I go. Hoping hell call to let me know, that hes sick of being without his mind. Sick of always being high.

I might as well just face the day, what will crying do anyway. Ill wipe my tears, look at him and say, Im done with you, youll never change!

but no matter how hard I try, he somehow crawls back into my mind.

All day, every day, He seems to be all I think about, him and his addiction.