to no avail.

can't you see? i can't give you what you need. i have nothing to offer ... i don't even have hands left to open up to you. i'm inadequate and shamed although my back is straight, perpendicular to the ground.

blind to what i have and what's been left behind, i'm smashing picture frames and whimpering into this bottle. i'm not together, and i refuse to believe that i'm anything of substance. take what you believe in and throw it at my feet, but it won't help you if what you believe in is me.

you deserve better. hell, we all do. just don't take me for granted when i'm on my knees, scratching my skin with only fingernails until i bleed, red running water gathering at my toes. i don't have anything but pain and reluctance and fear, and it's gathering strength to push you away.

shaking my head and murmuring no, it must be so small to you to see me this way. can i tell you about who i was? before i found myself wishing more than living? confident and timorous, overbearing and protective, smiling and self-sufficient, abstruse and detailed ... at least that's who i thought i was. i'm focused on what should have been instead of what is, but i'm trying. i'm fighting the good fight ... can i tell you about the boy that taught me that? maybe someday.

already you hold my hand, but neither of us knows what it means. and i don't want anymore goodbyes. i don't want to be scared one more day.

i'll tear, and i'll fall. somehow, i'll climb back up to my feet, faint and weak. one day, i'll be able to tell you about that moment that i relive everyday, but i want to give you more than sorrow, more than i can. in my head, my words are just promises broken. i want to give you more than that.