Wasted Youth

 I remember being 17 homeless in Hollywood and hooked on heroin. Wild Eyed and broken, relying on the kindness of strangers for the necessities of life. I remember men would say stay with me, sleep in my bed and they told me they loved me. 

They held me in their arms and stroked my hair. They kissed my lips in a way that made me believe them. None lasted more than a week. The problem is that I believed all of them, and I believed you, I believed in you like a child believes in Santa, Forever and the Easter Bunny. .