“How have you been?”

I know you didn’t mean for that simple question

To kickstart a full conversation about how much I want to **** myself

But I trust you and I don’t want to lose that

So I want to be honest with my best friend.

The thing about grieving

Is that it gets a little easier every day

And so I’m managing

As if I can feel some of my pieces go back to normal

But they’re sort of just slipping down. Down.

And my pieces… they feel so fragile these days and so lonely

Because I’ve run out of glue to make them believe they can go back together again

So now I’m stuck with old and ***** tape that didn’t work the first three times I used it

Which leaves me slipping.

And I know my body is slipping too

But I can’t really help it.

It just ***** when Valentine’s Day and Mardi Gras

And bereavement all fall so close to one another

And it ***** when the funeral is so far from the death

Because it’s just a constant stream of carbs, sugar, and fat

That I shouldn’t be eating but I need to

Because I need a grasp on real life, on Earth

Because I need an immediate way to feel like a person again.

Tonight I almost went back to the suicide spot

And sat on the cold steps all alone in the dark clouds.

But I worked out instead.

So, you see, I’m slipping while trying to climb.