On My Eternal Companion, Depression

(I'm the queen of Too Much Information. Today I was descended upon by the Red Menace, which one of my best friends calls our menstrual cycle. The day before and the day it happens, I always feel like hell emotionally. So this was the product of that. The image is a painting I did many, many years ago. Thanks.)

ON MY ETERNAL COMPANION, DEPRESSION

At night on the porch,
smoking two cigarettes back to back.

Drunk on the inherent loneliness
of my shadow flickering on the wall,

I am an open, furious book to the world,
bristling with pain and wonder.

The smoke curls its fingers heavenward,
if there is such a thing as heaven.

I can't imagine such bliss
and connection. Not down here

on this beautifully wretched earth,
amidst all this solitary suffering.

Back inside the house I retreat like a shoe
into the safe box of my room,

leaving the young people
to their tasks of pleasure and excitement.

Forgotten and discarded
like a once favorite

but now broken toy,
which I am.

Aching for affection, still, but knowing
such things are impossible.

Yet I cling to the small nugget of hope
That shimmers in the night,

That I might make something
Lovely out of all this longing.

Oh, Mommy, it hurts. But Mommy,
You're not here anymore, are you.

So alone in my despair, like an
abusive parent a child might adhere to,

the yearning is so familiar
it is strangely comforting.

In the silence, I begin to cry,
tears hot and raw slipping down my face,

caressing my cheeks,
soothing as an old lover.