The Needle

I still remember the first day that we became friends,

And we swore things would stay that way until the end.

Little blond haired angels swinging on swings,

Not caring about a goddamn thing.

We went through everything together.

When your father died when we were eight I said I would be there for you forever. 

Remember that New Years Eve party when we were ten, and you were so desperately sad?

Where you cried and said that this was just another holiday without your dad?

When the clock struck twelve that night the party was going on downstairs.

But you and I sat alone as I helped you wipe your tears.

The summer I turned thirteen we spent all of our days,

exploring in the forests and walking along the bay.

We were "mature" but we were really just little girls just discovering the ins and outs of the world.

And than one day we went our separate ways.

Which was terrible but we both saw it coming anyway.

I wanted to hit the books and you wanted to waste away your days.

So we saw each other occasionally, and you seemed to have gotten over all of the pain

You were looking great, you lost tons of weight, and you met a great guy named James.

But it wasn't long till I figured out that your weight loss trick was cocaine.

Were we were sixteen you put you're fathers wedding ring up for sale,

To buy crack I am sure.

You blew thousands of dollars until you were dirt poor,

and by nineteen you were in jail.

I saw you a couple months back.

There was a warrant out for your arrest so we had to meet somewhere discrete.

And that is when I saw the track marks everywhere from your arms to your feet.

I told her if she stayed with me I would keep her away from harm.

But she just turned around and left, to go stick a needle in her arm.

Twenty years old, and addicted to heroin.

This is a girl I met when I was five.

And everyday I wake up and wonder, "Is even Casey alive?"

Reviews

[TLK]

Not caring about a goddamn thing.
There is a bluntness to this line, exacerbated by the way you cut it so short. It ends the stanza abruptly, but I think this only helps to prove the fact that you mean it.

Second stanza: I notice the rhythm of eight-ten-twelve. It really provides a progression. I am now interested in whether this progression fulfils its promise (do things improve?) or is thwarted (perhaps you lose touch).

And than one day we went our separate ways.: typo.


I can't help but wonder how this poem would end if you switched back to full introspection: I wake up and wonder, "Am I even alive?"
In the end, the relationship you remember with this girl is in your head. It is part of you. And, to you, Casey's life is an irresistible mirror of your own.

[TutTut]

Awesome:)