Standing by the waterfall caused me to stumble,
Thinking I had something to catch me,
I let myself fall.
The feeling of falling is fine,
Often mistaken for floating
Or flying.
It’s hitting rock bottom that is the sickening wakeup
To the reality I should now be used to.
My tired, familiar bones ache
And my bruises howl purple neglect.
The scabs on my chest begin to flake and weep,
And though I know I should leave them to heal
I continue to scratch and pick.
Walking away with pride is difficult,
When the injuries cause you to limp and wince.

It seems meeting you
Was my true downfall.