He hasn't seen me clearly in months
eyes clouded,
hidden behind sunglasses,
glowing from the reflection of the lighter.
The group around him is as poisonous
as the smoke that obscures his once white smile,
drifting in and out of conscious rebellion
like the vapors blowing in the air.
Don't let him fall down the rabbit hole
into a technicolor dream land
grasping at pale hands with skin as thin as paper,
descending into a bottomless, black cavern
where song lyrics and my favorite color used to live.
Brown eyes turning yellow
like the nails he scrapes against the matchbox.
Don't let his mind crumble
like the butt of a used cigarette dragged against rough concrete
leaving imperfect fragments across the pavement, staining something pure,
A trail of black regret.
Please, don't let him lose the dimple on his cheek
when sunken eyes and hollow skin come to play,
inviting scabs and scratch marks peppered where freckles should be.
Twitching lips replacing a joyful smirk,
desperate for a new light to hold between his teeth.
Don't make him become the man in the parked car at two a.m.,
heat cranked up all the way.
Pulled over in a strange forest preserve,
because he lost his emergency pack.
Don't make him be the one stumbling into the gas station like a wounded animal,
slapping spare change down on the counter like a poker player.
Don't show him the line,
standing like the cliff of sanity, temptations on the other side.
Please don't show him, because he will run to it,
arms outstretched
as wild as a vulture taking flight.
