Bloody Fingers, Broken Mind

D R U G

She was never an addict—forever pure in her world of wonder.
She saw the world in colors, but he saw it in the dismal vison of black and white..
of smoke.
So he clouded her vision.
All she could intake was the sweet inhale of his scent,
And the grey eyes that held so many storms,
It was only a matter of time,
Before she became one herself.
Her vision, now fading to grey, was slowly
becoming blind.
All she could do was leave her world in his soft, malicious hands.
Hands, that not far off, also harbored the very thing that intrigued her.
His drug.
Held at the ends of his fingertips,
His burning drug, lit at the end, just sparked the flame of her heart deeper
with its glowing embers.
She was soon high, far too high.
With no parachute, and no guide,
She began to fall.
But worried was she not, for she felt she had a savior at bay.
A savior, who was nothing more than a
Drug.
Her heart was aflame with her love for this boy,
but his drug had not the intention to stay alight.
So he soon would stomp out the last burning ember left, also, the last light left in her blazing heart that had never felt more alive.
So, in her falling state, she was too far gone to realize her addiction will
soon be forced to an inevitable end
by nothing but the drug itself.
Soon, no light is left on the end of her
drug stick, and her heart has been crushed under his cold boot.
No light remains, much like the stomped out glow of her addicted heart.

She was addicted, and
he was her favorite drug.