Forget The World

10

I just wish you didn't have to be so goddamned high every time you tell me you love me.

Is your love the result of a couple of grams of weed? Is it the result of way-more-than-a-few lines of coke? A tab of acid? The pills? The needles?

Do you really love me or is it just the way the drugs make you feel?

Why can it not be because I hold your hand and protect you from the world?

Why is the only time you seem to need me when you're stumbling into my house at 5am, saliva and sweat running down your face, eyes frantic and darting everywhere?

Why do you rely on me only when I guide you to the bathroom, knowing not to turn the light on because it's too bright for you to handle, steering you in the direction of the toilet and holding your way-grow-out bangs from in front of your face to the top of your head?

Why do you only show signs of caring about me when I'm leading you to my bed and sitting you down, removing your jeans and soaking-with-sweat t-shirt, laying you on top of the sheets, dabbing your forehead with a towel and kissing your temple to let you know it's okay I'm here?

Why is it only an hour later when your eyes have finally grown heavy, but the drugs are still controlling you like a puppet, that you have to say those words?

I'd like to think that I'm good enough on my own for you to love

I'd like to think that you could want me around when you're sober

I'd like to think that I didn't need to rely on you being high as a fucking kite to be a part of your life

I'd like to think that I'm more than your little carer when you're wasted

I'd like to think I'd like tothink I'dliketothink I'dlktothnk

Wouldn't it be fucking peachy if you remembered all I do for you when you can barely walk, hardly speak and only just remember how to breathe, when the morning gifts you with a pendulum in your head and sandpaper for a tongue?

You know there's a reason why you come to me when you're off your face on every illegal plant, powder and tab you can buy with that week's wages-

You know it's because your little fuck buddies wouldn't do the same.

The difference between me and them is that I give a shit about you but they only care about the sex and fun,

I will, and fuck I do, put myself through torture - so immense you could not imagine - when the mandatory 5am visit comes where you rarely even know my name but know exactly who I am – else why would you walk all this way in the fucking cold, kept warm only by the mix of chemicals flowing in your blood?

I'd like to believe your words,

But we both know they're not true.

I wouldn't be surprised if you don't remember ever telling me them,

But damn it and damn you, because I do.

I do.