The red drug runs down his fingers
as he stares numbly at the puddle
that is forming slowly on the floor
The shard of glass falls and lets out
an explosion of sound that shatters
the silence engulfing the bathroom
He doesn’t recognize the eyes
staring back at him from a cracked
mirror and takes a step backwards
But he can’t shake the ghost that
is haunting his mind and he can’t
shake the fog that clouds his eyes
And she was sitting outside the door
knowing what he was doing to
himself but the door was locked
And she didn’t have the energy
to find the key that could open it
and she didn’t have the energy
To wipe up the blood that would
be in a puddle on the white tile
and she didn’t want this anymore
He can hear her crying outside
but he can’t hear his own thoughts
and that scares him more than ever
Because when he was a kid he was
supposed to grow up and have
everything he wanted and be happy
And he was going to play notes on
his guitar and crowds were going to
line up outside doors to listen to him
And she was going to tattoo words
beautiful words on paper that spoke to
people but the typewriter is broken
It is hidden under mountains of dust
the same dust that helped snap his
guitar strings and the same dust that
Watched from under beds and behind
corners of rooms and above picture
frames and knew what was coming
Because it always happens the same
way and nothing ever changes even
if their names do end up in the stars
And the red drug runs down his fingers
as he stares numbly at the puddle
that is forming slowly on the floor.