It's a downward spiral, but you can't find the floor; so

You sink into an eternity of endings,
          a forever of goodbyes,

Stretched out to paper thinness;
              A Burgeoning ribbon of needlesharp threads
      Extending below
                    into the abyssal pit

That encompasses your everything,
                            your always.

You float above the threat of nonexistance
                  and wonder if maybe,

Maybe if you let it go,
wash yourself in a novocain of 'good enough',

and make do
with your world of fantasy
         (as your only solace in the dark) -

Maybe that will fix it all.
          Maybe nonexistance is the answer,
                     not the end.

A barely there mentality
          to serve as your happy ending.

.
.


Maybe this abyss will be my saviour.
           Maybe I'll float clean out the other side;

Having learned what to do
         without my need for you.


_{But Oh,
                  how I need you
                              (And need to)}