Empty

His eyes slowly clouded over.

The people around me were crying, but none of them knew love for him like I did. If they had, they would know this was a waste of time. No intervention was going to cure him. He was already dead two times over. And the funny part was, it was all their fault. They were the ones that abused him, abandoned him, leaving him to find comfort in something else. Such as his mothers medicine cabinet. That witch. Sobbing like she actually cared. But I knew, I knew it was all an act. She was a Pill popping junkie just as much as he was. The difference was she settled with consuming them orally and washed it down with a bottle of wine instead of downing Jack.

I think back to what he used to be. The sad smiles and swollen lips. Not this bumbling skeleton whose incoherent words erase the memories of the beautiful songs he once sung to me. And suddenly I need air. I am drowning here between their sobs and his drooping face. I stand up and head for the door. Knowing full well the next time I see him will be in a coffin. But I don't cry. Because I mourned his passing long ago.