all this love inside me and still i am
lonely
but not like i used to be.
it doesnt ache the same way.
im not weighed down by this impenetrable grief,
rather it is something that i carry with me.
a brooch of misery pinned to my lapel
this sadness, is so delicate
like a flower, watered with my own tears.
when people say it gets better,
is this what they mean?
do they mean that the depression never goes away
but becomes a quiet hum in the back of your mind, forever playing its solemn tune?