The ghost of you hides in my closet.
The feeling of you lingers, but I keep thinking I lost it.
So how do I move on and rebuild.
I’m stuck with all the memories and some of the guilt.
You made me a better version of myself.
But I’m left chasing the past and I’m stuck in my personal hell.
I’ll always keep a piece of you in my heart.
But I still can’t believe that you let me tear us apart.
I knew it was me that lost any hope of you being the key.
I just wish you never wanted to leave.
So I’ll keep believing that you really did want me.
And I’ll keep treading through these hopeless waters trying to retain my sanity.

You say if I'm actively suicidal you'll have to commit me, so can I please verify whether this is a passive or active feeling?
You don't seem to understand that I am passively active at all times, that suicide is not something you have to die to commit.
You don't grasp that I am both fine and alive while being broken and empty, all at the same time.
You don't see that I can comprehend that something is wrong with my mind for the way it whispers to me of deaths inviting embrace, that I know this isn't normal, but oh, oh do I wish it was.
You ask me to rate my feelings on a scale of 1-5, quantifying my mind's nuances before I have a chance to explain that I don't even know myself half the time.
Do your best, you say.

My best ran out when I stepped over the threshold, next time I'll know not to waste it on a visit to you.