deepundergroundpoetry.com
In all his glory
Depression sits on a throne concocted of bones from all the lovers he ever kept with him in his bed, and he wears a crown of thorns plucked straight from the roses that once bloomed in the garden of Eden, he has many names; Tempestuous, The first fallen; Devil, At least in my mind.
He can make you feel so whole, and so not alone, and then he can make you feel as if you were the last being on earth herself. He is always there, prancing around in the deepest darkest spaces of my mind, taunting me. Because whether I like it or not, he knows all of me; every bad memory, ever trigger, bingeing and purging episode that he ever inspired, he is a key, and I am the catacombs of my own demise.
He holds me so tightly at night, that sometimes I forget I was ever lonely in the first place, and the way he holds me makes me forget how empty I ever was, and then he lets go; because he always does, and when he does, he always leaves.
And the worst part of it all is that when he does finally leave, he always takes something with him. Even when the sun begins to shine again; he is already there, carving his name into the back of my thigh, welcoming himself home.
And alas, this is not the end for him and I, and it never ever will be.
He can make you feel so whole, and so not alone, and then he can make you feel as if you were the last being on earth herself. He is always there, prancing around in the deepest darkest spaces of my mind, taunting me. Because whether I like it or not, he knows all of me; every bad memory, ever trigger, bingeing and purging episode that he ever inspired, he is a key, and I am the catacombs of my own demise.
He holds me so tightly at night, that sometimes I forget I was ever lonely in the first place, and the way he holds me makes me forget how empty I ever was, and then he lets go; because he always does, and when he does, he always leaves.
And the worst part of it all is that when he does finally leave, he always takes something with him. Even when the sun begins to shine again; he is already there, carving his name into the back of my thigh, welcoming himself home.
And alas, this is not the end for him and I, and it never ever will be.
Published 24th Aug 2023
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24th Aug 2023 10:00pm
