I once asked him for advice-
and he told me to breath.
So I took in a deep breath as the walls faded
and the floor shattered below me.
The ceiling still hung-
like some sort of mockery,
reminding me
of the place I was still in.

Too often I’m losing sleep,
over you and over me
and I don’t know what I’m doing here.

Motion surrounds me
however here I lay.
Confusion consumes my mind
and I’m weak, so weak,
no floor below me and
definitely no support.
I’ve lost my balance.

Too often I’m losing sleep,
because of noises and
endless telephone rings
and I don’t know if I can handle this.

I’ve been recently shattered.
You’ve slowly destroyed me-
eating away, board by board,
brick by brick.
I’m left in shambles.

I hope you can see what you have done.
See your masterpiece,
here I am.
See right through a glossy smile.
See how a breath could be so lifeless.

Too often I’m losing sleep,
because of nightmares.
You haunt my dreams,
but it’s my turn now.
I want to destroy you.

My head begins to clear,
and I can stop to think.
Insecurity still looms but
I now know where I’m going.
Bricks begin to stumble over one another,
splinters fit together-
the floor still a half broken puzzle.

Too many times I had lost sleep,
over you and the right thing
but I’m moving on now and growing up,
building support around me.

He asked me what was next,
so I put an end to our story,
returning the favor.

I told him to breathe.