The Count Down Poem by EC David

Well, here it is once again. Folded up into another origami fortuneteller.
Why can't I see the words?
Why can I only write them?
Why can't she feel me and why I can't express that she is still the reason that everything I feel is so vibrant.
Once again, everything I crave has somehow become discontinued to my position, and slowly available to another.
How long will it take this time?
Will I lose my mind again?
Is this the end for real or is this just a repeat?
When I get back to being better, I still remember the words that I can never forget, and the feeling that is often found in a scent.
And when I see her again, I'll know that I don't have to break down because I will be OK even if I can never stop craving what's lost.
Have I already lost my mind?
Here's the countdown, but don't hold your breath.