Major Tom

Do you remember you had promised me

to stay clean

on my eighteenth birthday party?

I swear to God.

You heard what I said,

you recited the books you read.

I remember catching you in corners,

sniffing powder of off my parents’ cd collection.

Your shoulders and your back were bend.

I like to think 
I thought you looked small.

But I did not think that

at all.

As we filled our veins with

liquid luck.

Pretending not to care about our skins,

the stains.

All I could think of

was telling my friends:

you looked like Kurt Cobain.