Girls and Depression

On the back porch
With a cigarette tucked
Between your fingers
You haven’t shaved in a
A few days
Dewy skin
Pale expectations
The promise of better things
If only…
The dope sick would wane
And the fights would stop.
If only
You could ignore  
The inane fragility of woman
And make your way
Like a lion untethered.
But you keep sinking
In your unspeakable sadness
In your barren world
Of unshakeable hapless
Attempts at love
Fleeting visions, sidelong glances  
The girl in the short, pink shirt…
Or maybe something better.    
You aren’t rotting…
Not yet
But those cigarettes
Blackening your lungs
Looking more like your heart
With each smoky exhale.