Why is it so easy to let myself slip?

I look down to the bottom of the long stairwell

It's dark down there, but I can make out a few things:

late nights and long mornings

a long silent face that stares ahead

ignored texts, rejected invites, neglected work

closed windows and ***** dishes

My grip on the banister fails me as I start backsliding

I fight even though I'm tired of fighting right now

When I reach the bottom it's dark and dull

Comfortable and familiar

Lonely and Isolated

I don't know what to do,

So I'll just sit here and wait.