The taste of you
on my teeth
is becoming the air I breathe
I wet my lips
I drink my tea
but the taste of you still makes me bleed

It was your voice, at first;
How you sounded -
Happy, but not complete.
Maybe you were and
I wasn't. I'm not.

Then, it was your eyes.
A cosmic gaze, but not too complex.
*****, but inviting exploration.
Dark, but lit a way -
brown, of an autumn sunset.

Then, it was your smile.
Small, but big enough to glare -
Often painted red with love,
A smile which stood out like sunflowers;
whenever you showed it.

Again, it was your voice;
How soft it became at 4am,
husky, when it loved me -
and loud, when it missed me.

Then, it was your hair.
The beauty of it fell over your shoulders;
Like artwork, when you waved it off your face;
to, again -
show off a smile that stands out,
eyes, that prompt being explored -
and a voice that demands being heard.

And, then, you told me your name.
Its meaning, light -
and it all made sense;
how you've illuminated my life -
from that first sound of your voice,
‘hello’.

My new neighbour depression,
lives in a house rotting in the ground,
scarred wood torn away and roof tiles scattered,
with garden flowers withering away,
trees cracking at the slightest move of the wind.
Ever since he moved in a storm cloud
hangs low over the neighbourhood,
soaking my lawn and treading on my grass.
My neighbour depression
throws heavy stones to crack my windows,
leaves untidily scrawled messages of hatred in my letterbox,
leaving a trail of black paint up to his backgate.
My neighbour depression
takes advantage of my protection of thin walls,
and each day attempts to crash through them like a wrecking ball,
slowly dimming my lights and making shadows in my room
appear darker and bigger.
My neighbour depression
walks down the street like a black hole,
******* out all the sound around him.
And my neighbour depression
is starting to make me forget what my voice sounded like.

I was never the type
of child that obeyed
much  of anything;
not even the many
times  I was told
not to stare into
the evening sun
when I felt
alone.