I'm not quite sure
when the dark thought
first came to me;

it crept up softly
and quietly, like a black cat
in the garden of night;

like a light through a crack
in a door opening slowly
and too soon; or perhaps

a drowning man in the deep
waving back at the moon;
too far over his head.

I want the sun to kiss me upon my forehead
To comfort the cold that stings inside of me
The one that overwhelms me with darkness
I want the wind to blow fresh air into my lungs
Since those are the ones to be tiring the fastest
Leaving me breathless like almost-lovers before