Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sep 15
there are nights i fear you coming, knowing your arrival will plunge me into the abyss, to dredge the emotional depths, i am not ready or willing to explore. i am too fragile, overwrought to plumb those parts of me.

it is intense, exhausting, all consuming, analyzing and dissecting my feelings, so i can pick up a pen, transcribe the wellings, spew them on paper, for the world to see. you are a sadist, but i am the *******, that is the reason i love you, leaving me frail, weakening my mettle, as you show me my demons.

crashing out of our dream, i awake alone, the morning after, left in a stupor, hung over, craving more, lamenting what could have been. how lonely do i need to be, to feel free, how much drugs and alcohol does it take to forget, how far do i need to fall to see.

the depression envelopes, inundates all, in a grayness, as the summer sun leaves, abandoning me to melancholy. that is when you come, at my deepest, loneliest, to kiss me as no mortal woman can, whispering, “ you can’t escape me,” in my ear..
About love hate relationship with my muse (creativity), writing, and depression

Read at Wild Detective Bookstore in Bishop Arts Dallas TX 2019.10.09
Written by
   Christine Ely and Fawn
Please log in to view and add comments on poems