when you recognise the depression
you can't pin-point it's arrival
unannounced, it crept in

it is the negative space
you cannot put words to it
it is what isn't

a slight inkling still remains
in my mind that i can't shift.
i still wish i could be her.
the jealousy can't fade when i
grasp to it with clenched fists

i fell for you in autumn, saw your gold soaked hair and presence everywhere,
the leaves turned crimson and honey,
the sun cascading through the woven branches,
i loved you in winter, cold days spent wrapped up in wool and cloth, bundles of scarves and shared umbrellas, icy winds nipping at our laced fingers,
i waited for you and spring, short eternities going by just so that i could see you again, breathe you in, hold you and feel home.

first there were my brothers
came into the world ******, kicking and screaming
formed into sculpted men
grinning patriots
flag in hand
their eyes rolling at any glimpse of difference

then there was the promised child
the one wanted so dearly
the mute angel
the one with a scrunched nose
masking stims in the corner, seeing the world so violently
became this thing, pushing away the female mould set before them so neatly
the boyish one
preferring the sweet solitude of the garden, pushing tiny feet into soft earth, plucking dandelions and daisies and braiding them gently into wisps of hair,
the academic one,
nose in a book, struggling on the playground,
crying quietly, head full of cymbals
the disappointing one,
something queer and other
preferring to sprawl themselves across their space, untidy and unkept
the brilliant one,
thoughtful and caring, holding their dearest ones close and
loving so so intently

i always feel it at the front of my mouth
almost say it casually
but i’ve never said it aloud
but dear god do i want to

i struggle to believe anyone could
love me, because she
would only return my sentiment
in texts at 3am and on
intoxicated nights where all i
was, was a body for her to hold and
to plant kisses on high;
come morning time
she would’ve rolled over,
eyes closed, faced away.
im glad i never told her i loved her because
it would’ve been a half truth
a confession stained with bitter melancholy

hr.