Heath:
1:27 a.m.
I cant stop thinking about. I dont understand it still. I just wanna see your pretty little face with the little cigarette hanging from your perfect lips. The way you poisoned yourself was intoxicating. When you would come home and quickly go straight into my room before pulling out the colorfull or earthy drugs from your pocket. You always did like tourturing yourself sweetheart. You were an addict and so was i. I was an addict for you. Im sorry baby
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Heath:
11:54 p.m.
Sometimes i think about the times when you were sober, the very few times. You would always have dull eyes, be weak and tired. But once you snorted your magic white powder or injected you brown sleep inducer or smoked your leafy greens or nibbled your magicle mushrooms, always grimincing at the taste, you were alive. You would smile, laugh. You would see the world differently. im an addict for my alcohol, for my cigarettes, but mostly for you. I dont know why i fell inlove with an addict when the one thing you werent addicted to was me.
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