I slowly sipped your bitterness
Still fooled by your disguise
The truth that others claimed to see
I never recognized
The buried lies
If only I had passed that cup
Not stared into your eyes
Your poison has no antidote
It kills by compromise
Love can’t survive
Clearly, I failed. I’ve had this fragment in my writing folder for a week or so, and every time I tried to write something else, it kept intruding. I finally gave in and got it to a point where I thought I could call it finished. (For now. Nothing is ever finished, especially here.) The other piece I was working on was another meditation on dirt. So…yeah. Not remotely cheerful or upbeat. I wanted something else for today! I really did. I sat, I typed, I deleted. Nothing flowed in, not one cheery thought.
I almost walked away without posting, but that’s become too easy. I like easy. I prefer easy. I watch tv instead of reading, snack on potato chips instead of making a salad. I let days go by without posting, because writing every day takes effort. And effort takes energy, and energy is scarce when I’m depressed. And I’m depressed. That’s the truth that I have to face every time I sit down to write. I know there are things I can do to ease depression’s grip: choose healthier foods, move my body more, feel what I’m feeling. Not wanting to look at it doesn’t make it go away.
It took me a while to realize that’s what this poem is about. For me. It’s not about a relationship with someone else. It’s me and my depression. My depressed self. Or maybe Depression itself. Are they separate things? I’ll have to think more about it to tease that all apart.