pressed against the bathroom door
fighting for breath
and words
but you insist that we say nothing
sweaty, hot hands reaching
for something in me
I
can not
contain
this much longer
i question and doubt
every inch of what i am
and fight to figure out
just what that is
or what it's going to be
or what i want it to be
and i am in regression
trying to find some
sort of solution
to this apathy that has grown
stale through
masked emotions and
trying to let go
which only further provokes
holding on
your apologies
though appealing
strike me as appaling
and i'm scared it's going
to end up this way