the ineptness of my reach

[11.29.2023]

i once loved a girl who wishes she was dead

you talk about your death like a release, or trajectory towards peace so often now, i feel unsettled when you speak
yet i don't want you to restrain your speech it's relevant to me, i want to help you but i do fear the ineptness of my reach
the mood swings getting more erratic, going from a sort of average to an almost manic happy, shifting to an awful sadness
or emptiness, it's like something flips a switch, and the light inside your eyes dives into the abyss
taking you into my arms, i repeat "i'll be alright" though in these moments i'm not sure whether i mean it or i lie
and that doubt makes me feel weak
it's obscene to think that i'd believe that i could fix a mind that's been mistreated most its life
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and although i try to soothe you, acting strong, the truth is i'm so fucking scared to lose you
i'll be alright...