as her body was laid into the ground,
surrounded by grief and questions
of how a lady so young
could be taken from us all
after such a slow death.
Sadly, from the beginning
I watched it happen.
Watch her take the first drink
at a tender, young age
and saw the effects of every glass.
How the cobwebs led to no memory.
I do not remember a time
that a glass
was not in her hand
and a half burnt cigarette
was in the other.
The cigarettes turned into a spoon.
Full of addictive, stained liquid
that robbed her of the person she was
and turned her into a stunned
shadow of herself.
She was a small girl
that decayed over time.
The skin shrunk
until we saw bones sticking out.
She forgot who all of us were.
Eyes were glazed and red.
The pretty lady turned grey.
Not a word was said
during her spiral
into another world.
Not one until her lonely heart stopped.
The princess to a decayed self.
Without one word, I watch it happen.
March 25, 2016
© Andrew Scott - Just a Maritime Boy 2016