I remember the nights spent with you,
under the stars and sharing a blunt,
back when my life was better,
and the **** only used for a bit of fun,
instead of the necessity it has become
as the alcohol was, once upon a time.

I've learned to blunt my pain with apathy,
choke back sobs with determination,
and to go into the bathroom
when my panic attacks come on.

I try and hide the pain from
my closest friends because
I'm afraid my misery will push them away,
and then I'll be alone again.

I've stayed my hand from
the hilt of the blade, for many reasons,
but you're the biggest; the person
I love most in the world
and the fact that I'm not ready
to leave you just yet.