Two years, two months, and twenty-six days.

That was all the time I had.

Drugs. Day after day. Stronger as the clock ticked by.

You left so quick, no time for good-byes.

Only scribbles on wrinkled paper.

Emptied pill bottles on the counter.

Specks of cocaine on the table.

Your last chapter.

And the heart wrenching, tear-jerking beginning of my first.

I didn't understand, I continued to wait.

Every knock at the door, I went charging.

Screaming for you at night wanting to be held, to smell your scent.

Tears of frustration every day for years.

Days rolled on, but I refuse to carry on.

Wishing on each star and every birthday for you to come rescue me.

I miss you.

Tell me Mother, what was our last embrace like? I can't recall.

That's all you'll ever be, another lost memory.

And that's the price we both pay.