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