You kill an addict by making them look like the bad guy.
When they come back after saying they couldn’t stay, you refuse to embrace them, because you tell yourself that they won’t stay for long anyway. You run from their open arms and don’t even realize that a part of them died a little more each time you walked away.
You kill an addict when you tell them that you don’t know how to love someone with alcohol-soaked veins and a cocaine heart. You rationalize your distance because they’re there one minute and gone the next. And you’re not sure how much your sober heart is supposed to take.
You mistake their insanity for apathy, and become desensitized to the sadness in their eyes. You don’t even realize until it’s too late that all they really needed was some peace of mind and clarity.
You kill an addict when you fail to see their efforts because you’re too preoccupied with acknowledging their failures.
You never stop to think that this wasn’t the life they wanted – that perhaps they needed this wall between you two torn down. You never seem to acknowledge that you were the masonry who built this wall in the first place.
You kill an addict by letting them know that you’re fine without them. Meanwhile, they’re secretly gasping for air without you.
Before you know it, years have passed, and you find yourself senselessly apologizing for all the ways you’ve done them wrong. Only this time, you’re talking to their headstone, with grass-stained knees and tearstained cheeks. You cry into your bloodstained hands because you know you’d give anything to hear their cocaine heart beat again.