Spend some time.
"I guess it doesn't matter anymore." She looked at me and all I could think about were those wrists oh dear god her tiny motherfucking wrists she looked awful. Worse than my eyes could handle. My heart swelled I looked up with big brown eyes asking "Is there anything I can do?" my voice croaked crooked and evil. This was my fault. She smiled. I saw a smile, I hadn't seen onein two years. Not since the cock roaches moved into her apartment, the drugs piled up, the bruises turned into wounds requiring stitches and the baby got taken away. But she smiled, her light blue eyes always looked watery. "No. There isn't, but thank you for asking." I focused on a smudge of red lipstick on her left canine and wished I could wipe it away with my thumb. Or hand her a napkin say "Hey you have some lipstick on your teeth," but something told me that lipstick was old and she didn't even know she was wearing any. Her mind was withered rotting at the brain stem something old and expensive buzzing in her veins. Her wrists getting thinner by the minute, the insides of her cheeks being chewed away by her molars. Jaw clenched tight. I wanted to shout out "I MISS YOU," I wanted to reach out and kiss her cheek or muss her hair, do something. I wanted to scream "I WILL HELP YOU, I WILL TRY TO HELP YOU AGAIN," but there was no more help to be had. Her lipstick was old, her wrists were getting smaller.