I want to talk about alcohol, weed, and heroine.
I want to talk about how even though I have not used them they still tried to ruined my life.
But they didn't succeed.
I want to talk about how alcohol took over my father.
Before I could even understand.
How that one swig of poison changed him into a different man.
I want to talk about the empty bud light cans covering our house
Filling the rooms with the smell of life rotting.
While he’s over there, passed out, with that last can of beer on the table.
I want to talk about the weed that blew into my face when I walked in that back door of that disgusting house, that his lazy bum self has yet to clean.
But I want to thank him, for sobering up for me.
I want to talk about heroine and how it almost took the life of my boyfriend.
I want to talk about the sadness in his eyes when he said he just wanted to get high,
One last time.
I want to talk about the story, he told me.
About his best friend committing suicide and how now?
He looked me straight into my eyes telling me he wanted to die.
With his eyes glazed over in red, and a tear about to drop if he blinks one more time.
I want to talk about how he now tells me that I saved his life.
And that the “I love yous” I speak, makes him feel alive.
And how one day, he wants to make me his wife.