Addiction.

She walks to shower,
a shawdow of her
former being. The best
years of her life lost
up her nose in a whirl-
wind of white.

The fine white powder,
covers the dresser like
the years first beautiful
snow.

The high is now nothing,
more than a craving.
A hunger that has no
end. Starving thoughts
clutch the straw.

Her fingers still covered,
her numbingly pale flesh,
peeks through the powder.

She sees the skeleton
in the mirror,
Droplets of blood,
from her nose.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Her life swirls down the drian.