We never argued, we rarely disagree'd. 

Some days I struggle to even remember our conversations, I start to second guess and wonder whether we actually talked at all or if we just floated past and left our silhouettes to bump into eachother on occasion. 

I could tell you about disconnect.

I could tell you what it's like to share a bedroom with somebody that gave just as much life as they took. I could tell you what it was like to pick you up from work at night with a handbag full of cash only to see you the next day wearing worn clothing with fresh needle marks in your arms. I could tell you about your eyes rolling back and how peaceful you looked on the verge of destruction, but baby you were there and there's nothing I could tell you that you don't already know.

I can recall jug houses with old junkies stirring H in a pot and when I'm stuck with silence there's no escaping the memories of half naked men and women on the floor drifting further from their souls. I swear that on nights like that even death left the room and when I felt god wasn't watching I too played games with the devil.

I know men who died from 90mgs and you banged 100 like your blood was made of it. I thought I saw you pass twice and I waited it out like I was supposed to. It was clockwork. You made me want to be a saint, but hurt people hurt people and I lost my soul to prescriptions the same way you broke those prescriptions down on a tea spoon and IV'd them into your arm. 

I could tell you about love and how I struggle to feel anything. 

I could tell them about the money I made off of those girls that wanted to be you.. I could sit back and let you tell them about the men that would pay for your time and the drugs that time bought us. Maybe one day I will. 

Right now though, you're a faint breath of wind that drifted past my early 20's. 

I saw you the other day like a beautiful time capsul - you had a summer dress on with your scarred arms in full glory. I guess slice wrists are a lot easier to digest than collapsed veins and your body is a temple so you adorn it with what it means to be young. 

I only hope that one day you find what it is you've been searching for this whole time because I know it's not the overdoses and I know that it's not abandoned houses sleeping on sweat stained mattresses. 

I know you'll tell me that you warned me and I know that I'll tell you I never listen. I asked you once if we were in love and your actions told me everything that I needed to know. 

I knew that we weren't and I know that you wish that we were. I know how it feels to fade until you're staring at your creator and I know what it's like to be sent back. Maybe we were lost in translationq, caught between the stars and the page. 


I followed the stars to your feet and they lead me away just as clear.

I could tell you about hope, about growth, about change, about fear, about death, about life. I could tell you about dreams, about faith, about loss, about us. 

I could tell you about the girl with sorrow in her eyes and collagen lips but I feel like you know her well enough.

I still listen to the stones and feel you in my soul.

Rich James

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