My depression is an ocean,
coming in waves,
sometimes typhoons.
Full of other things,
like ships,
and buoys,
I may crash into.
Which causes my heart,
to race,
to pulsate,
this is my anxiety.
I can’t take it,
I can hardly breathe,
I’m choking,
on seaweed.

Love is pointless,
worthless,
and cheap.
Three words,
uttered,
purchased too easily.
It's exhausting,
dangerous,
and empty.
Love hurts,
painful,
basically scalding.
It's fire,
passionate,
put out with a simple breeze.

She smells sweet,
like roses,
laced with,
cigarette smoke.
Lips soft,
like petals,
and a lingering,
taste of tobacco.
Eyes so blue,
like the sky,
but more at night.
Like her hair,
seemingly darker,
than a cat,
on the same path.
She breathes,
poison into,
my lungs,
I inhale,
and huff,
her in.

I spit my tongue,
right out,
on the cold tile floor,
I couldn’t taste it.
You stared at me,
and it,
me,
it,
horrified,
practically disgusted.
“I thought,
that was gum,”
you said,
bewildered,
basically out of breath.
I would have answered,
but shrugged instead.

Once,
I fell in love,
with a ghost,
which wasn't as much,
a mistake,
as it was,
a mystery.
She promised,
she would always,
be there,
but by habit,
she faded away,
gradually.
As I screamed,
begged,
pleaded.
I couldn't,
grab her hand,
it wasn't really,
ever there.
That was when,
I fell in love,
with a ghost,
but she didn't,
fall for me.