I'm sorry

They say depression fucks you during the day.
That's where you're different.
You only ever fuck me with the lights off,
in faceless silence.
I prefer the darkness.
Insomnia
provides me as a loyal companion.
Otherwise I sit and listen to white noise.
And the black and the white sound
Is quite fragile.
You're fragile.
You appear as something less.
But I guess that suits me just fine.
I don't need you to matter.
Because we're the same,
Meaningless, incoherent gibberish.
We thought we made sense.
I can't read your mind.
Just fuck me.
I'm sorry.