She was no longer a user Don't think she realised we knew that Not one to make a fuss Why this and not something else Wasn't it obvious? She made such a hash of it You can't help but notice A near absence of tenderness And who wants to live like that? And friends turned their backs on her She, no longer a user And she wanted to stay home With a box full of postcards And no place to send them Live like Emily Dickinson Without so much as a kiss Or the comfort of strangers Withdrawing into herself But why this and not something else?