This heaviness is all too familiar. This is melancholy, in a causal turn of its head, raised eyebrows, saying: hi, haven't seen you in awhile, lets talk. Except there are really no words to say; you and I are ex lovers more than we are old friends. Before anything really makes sense, I am sinking, slowly but also quickly because everything is escaping me and before I know it, water is at my neck 

except that this time I think I am also drowning in my bones, where your kisses have sunken so deep. Over the past seasons I fought and I kicked and I held my breath but it seems that the time is drawing near, that I would have forcably fallen in love with water enveloping my body, with the taste of salt water, with blurry, painful underwater vision. I could fall in love with that. 

I am at the end of myself, where all that is left is pain, all that's left is confusion, all that's left is the broken pieces that I tried to fix together on my own. 

I am at the end of myself but it is where You can begin.