Be able to.

I don't know if I will ever be able to love fully again...

I write poetry just to help break my own fall.

I struggle with a sense of existential anxiety 

And sometimes I can't see the point in continuing to live life at all... 

I've never been the type

To keep both of my feet on the ground.

Far too quixotic

Never failed to throw all my love around. 

And from the outside I look fine

But walls close in with a blink...

I get so nauseous

Whipping vomit off of the bathroom sink...

Shit, I meant the bathroom floor.

Fuck, I meant the bathroom door.

I couldn't hold it in...

I don't know which service absorbed more...

And I don't drink

Least I don't think

I did like I did before...

And I don't see

That side of me

It's buried in your rapport...

I look for answers

But I fill my mind with deeper dark holes.

I need to fill them in

The scars live on, but slices can close.

I mean, the damage will heal.

I mean, I...fuck it, who knows?

The past is just the past

We have to give that shit a fitting repose.

I don't know if I will ever be able to be able again...

I've lost a lot me while falling for a fair-weather friend. 

I struggle with a sense of waiting till I can see the end.

And sometimes I can't see the point in stretching if you won't bend. 

I've always been the type

To only keep one foot on the ground.

I'm far to vigilant

I have to keep from getting knocked down. 

And from the outside I look fine

But doors slide shut with a hiss...

I get so pissed

That I could slip my blade right over my wrist...

I meant right over my throat...

I meant right under my chin...

I want to call you

But I don't want to relapse once again.

You know I smoke

Because the jokes

Can only keep so much in.

But you can't see

That side of me

Like back when we were just friends...

I don't know if I will ever be able to...