Stuck

I fight the urge to write you

because I know how it will end:

the way it always ends between us.

Me left wanting more

than you’re willing to give.

And things being awkward and sad.

My depression can’t handle

the idea of you with someone else

so I’ve crawled into a hole and hidden.

And each time I peek out

to see if things are safe,

the fear pulls me back into this pit

I’m trapped in now.

And there’s no one in here except me.

It’s lonely and dark as a grave.

I’m hoping maybe one day

you’ll reach a hand in to help me out

but I realize it’s likely a false hope

so I’m just falling

falling

falling.