I imagine depression to be the most beautiful creature.

Full lips curved into a perfect crescent, whispering invitations into desperate ears.
Arms stretched out, promising comfort
Hair long and deep red velvet
Hands warm and soft, with fingers like tommy guns.
Legs like the trunk of a cherry blossom tree, so much so you feel they may start budding flowers if only you would water them.
A torso to carry the weight of men.

And you walk towards her
No, you run
You run so ******* fast to the first beautiful thing to open its arms to you in so many months

And when you've collapsed most clumsily into the perfect mess of velvet & gunmetal
She will consume you
And at first you pay no mind
Because it feels good to feel nothing
And then the very last drop of who you used to be is dripping from her lips

And she offers you solace
In her fingers

Stop
Taking
On
Project
People

I am bones
& blood
& dust.
I am water
& skin
& teeth.
I am physical.
I am not more.
I am empty.

My bones a cage of which the birds were let out long ago.
My heart a vessel that long since has sank.
The walls of my mind vandalized by those not invited.
My skin a cardboard box torn to shreds & left out in the rain.
It is cold here.
I am empty.

I have nothing left to give.
Nothing left to pay you with.
Please, go.

I will tear flesh from my bones in search of who I was
I will fill my stomach with honeybees & brimstone
I will dig out the weeds that have rooted themselves in my spine
I will breathe enough air to grow flowers at my feet

She said she was in love with the sky

And ever since then i’ve been searching for those shades of blue in my closet


I try to walk a bit lighter 

& shine a bit brighter
  
& speak a bit softer
  

Changing tones with the hours & adding stars where I feel rather empty 


Then I realized 

I could never be the sky
  

For she is the sky