Written January 20-21, 2007
The days are blurring together,
like my life is God’s acrylic palette.
Only you remain in focus,
year after year after year.
One day I almost fainted.
The TV snow turned to black,
and you would have called me Holden
if you caught me holding on.
I kept on my feet, all on my feet,
until finally I admitted weakness.
I accepted their aid;
for once, I actually did.
Bereft of control and I broke.
I need to be bereft of control to break.
And I need to break to be okay,
to be in control again.
I need to stop pretending.
Feigning this facade of fortitude
for a cause in vain.
I don’t want this to be in vain.
The third time this happened,
a repetition of depression due to
ten years of deterioration.
Four years of…
I cannot bring up this, any of this.
We promised to forget I love you.
You can forget this, too.
Burden is not my aim.
I need to drop this fear,
erase every excuse I can make.
I will talk to someone.
Someone, someone, anyone.
Just mustering up the courage
is the dilemma, always the dilemma.
But I must try to make it,
for I’ve put this off far too long.
Three years, I said, I think I said.
You have kept me holding on this long.
Yet a two-man army is not enough
to hold together my sanity.