Fallen angel

I met you when I was on “benzos” I used to hear people hype them up like they were a party drug but it took me being in such an ugly environment that I didn’t want to be there mentally while I was there physically to get prescribed them. I wasn’t supposed to be on them, my Dr. Stopped seeing me because he knew it was my job giving PTSD, anxiety, night terrors, middle of the day panic attacks. I would tell you how much I was being harassed and you said I was fine I just needed a different job and didn’t need to be on the medicine. I left the job and left the pills. You used to party a lot and were in a bad place, I tried to help you how you helped me. I couldn’t understand why you were so trusting, AlWAYS so trusting, dangerously trusting. Now I’m seeing it, you won’t let your drugs go. The mystery pipe I found in the beginning. The mystery pipe I found at your friend’s, the cashier offering you a “rosebud” at random and you being embarrassed. You looked all strung out two days ago the same as you did the day you were supposed to start school, just fucking laying there like a cold corpse in a shed. I told you junkies always have bologna skin, you wouldn’t stop washing your face like it would wash your secrets away. We were so close and yet so far from being good for each other. I love you but being with you caused me to lose everything. I have to let you go but I will always appreciate having met you when I did. They told me it takes rock bottom and the only thing cushioning the blows from the punches life is throwing at you is me. I can’t be your crutch.