I’m a functionally depressed person.
I’ve self-diagnosed myself as this
Because severe depression makes
Me feel like I should be lying
Around my house all day and
Although I’d rather wrap myself
In the blankets of my bed,
I push myself out into the day.
Dressed in an outfit that’s not
Sweatpants and a t-shirt, but
Instead, jeans and a sweater.
Long sleeves to cover the cuts
On my arm, or many bracelets
With no colors that match my
Outfit but they cover my
Self-inflicted wounds from
The night before.
I fake a smile at people
That I pass by during the day
And I hope that they can’t
See through my eyes and into
My head. I hope they can’t read
The suicidal thoughts swimming
Around, filling the lack of serotonin
That I’m missing from my brain.
Their eyes feel like lasers shooting
Into my brain like bullets that I dream
Of releasing from the chamber
To settle in my head.
I’m a functionally depressed person
Because I function in society
Without anyone knowing that
Inside, I’m already dead.

Blood washed away
Skin all healed
My puckered flesh
Like twisted kisses

These scars
Across my body
Like braille
For the broken hearted

Fingertips
Grazing my legs
As if reading the cause
For my pain

There's no need to speak
For words
Are not needed
To tell my story

-ARI

on your first date you learn she takes her coffee
cooler than the starless sky
and by the end of the night you learn
she likes her showers hotter than the seventh sun
stepping out from the tub with her skin scrubbed
a scarlet hue that demands to be kissed until
dusk turns to dawn before your sleepless eyes

you wonder why she sweeps her hair to the side
after she says goodbye in the morning
why she seems so ******* guarded
all of the time
but you never ask
because you are afraid she may answer

she says she's never been in an accident
and you incorrectly assume
she is referring to a car
you swear up and down that she ought to be by now
because of the fashion in which she drives
like a madman
she says she doesn't believe in speed limits
or limits of any kind for that matter
she likes to get to where she's going and
she likes to get there fast
she's the kind of girl who doesn't believe in
taking things slow
maybe because she doesn't know how
or maybe because she doesn't want to know

she told me she loved me three weeks
before we got together by means of
mediocre poetry and a smile that
at the time
I couldn't quite understand

she says she's never been in an accident
and you incorrectly assume
she isn't referring to
all of the time
she spent
away
from
you

Writing.

You're sewing the reasons to your boat that's drifting away

Your writing your own meanings to the words that people say

You're drifting drifting yourself away.

I can't help you i can only hope you'll be okay.

I hope you don't forget me,
and our late night conversations that lasted till  3 am.

I hope you don't forget the time
when we spent hours
laughing over the dumb jokes
that we cracked.

And I really hoped you haven't forgotten
the time when you came to me
lovelorn and heartbroken
because the girl you liked didn't like you back.
That evening we spent,
in silence on the bench
because I couldn't find the words to comfort you.

But, to love is to let go.

So now that you're happily off with her,
I really hope you don't forget me.