A Poem a Day

Keeps the heartache at bay

Tag: Depression

  • It’s All in Your Head

    Everyday is different, yet difficult all the same.
    Everyday I want it all to stop.
    I know, to you, these are just more complaints.
    How lucky you are, not to have to live this way.
    I know my mood swings are…an inconvenience.
    But, everyday I want to cry.
    To stop trying, stop carrying this lie.
    Because the truth is, I am FAR from fine.
    I have moments, precious moments
    But they’re fleeting, become sparse with time.
    I am the epitome of misery.
    At least that’s how I feel, almost every second of the day.
    It’s come to where I anxiously await a good day.
    But you know you gotta grin and bear it
    Because society doesn’t like sad people
    Face it, you don’t either.
    So you’d rather believe in “I’m fine” than recognize that this ‘thing’ is slowly eating me alive.
    A slow sad poison from within.
    There isn’t enough oxytocin to keep it at bay
    All of the antibodies, slain.
    And somehow, I’m expected to not break down.
    To silently exist, silently resist, silently, anything but loud.
    Because it’s all in your head.
    Your head, your mind, your brain is one thing but it’s making you choose sides.
    Begging you to pick me no pick me
    While it’s more fuck you and fuck you more on the surface,
    Lost in a haze of darkness because the light is too potent, too harsh
    Unlike the silent dark, because that’s what you most wish for, silence, no jitters, no hindsight, no futuristic predictions
    You’ve adopted a predilection for solitude,
    Inherited a knack for loneliness,
    Built an imaginary imagination
    Where the days are easier,
    Where the thoughts have dimmed down to a hum,
    Where human interaction doesn’t make me physically ill.
    I much prefer that fantasy
    As opposed to the reality of having never moved from this bed

  • Dancing Queries

    A Dance with the Devil, a Date with Death

    I have never been afraid of death.

    Wary of it, yes

    But curious, nonetheless.

    And I guess curiosity might finally kill the cat.

    Only this time, satisfaction can’t bring it back.

    Is it wrong that there is a part of me too loud to ignore that would be okay with that? 

    That would welcome that outcome.

    Yet, another part of me is just as loud, and she rages against the idea of an end. 

    Fights with tooth and nail until she’s bloody

    But the opponent is inevitable, the only thing that the determines how long you will fight is time.

    Time is the thing to fear most.

    Time allows you to believe you own it, you have it.

    But it is nothing more than a handful of sand.

    The more you try to grab and possess

    The more of it that slips through your fingers, 

    Right back into the hourglass.

    Back into the fold, isn’t that how the story goes?

    Polvo eres y a polvo volverás, no?

    That’s the silent part of me, the one who weighs the most.

    Who steadies the devil on my shoulder, and stifles the battle angel in my soul.

    She waits, for truth, for confirmation, for the answer.

    Be it received now or decades down the line, she simply waits as acceptance and denial murmur words to sway her. 

    To tilt the scale one way or the other

    To react.

    But silence is nothing more than the absence of sound.

    She is my anchor of peace in a world that is too loud.

    She does not fear death, nor does she embrace life, she merely exists. 

    And for now, that is enough.

  • Grieving a Mother and a Friend

    Grieving a Mother and a Friend

    You were once beautiful to me, and now I find myself constantly searching the pain in your face for that beauty.

    I don’t know how to cope with what you’ve lost.

    Not for me, not for you.

    I don’t know how to accept these changes,

    In me, in you.

    I so desperately want to rewind time to relive life close to you.

    I’d gladly suffer through all of the bad of it meant I could also relive all of the good.

    And there was good, right? 

    We were happy most days, even if the dark days loomed above us, behind us, around us.

    But we laughed, we danced, we lived.

    And now, the beauty has dried up, and all that’s left is this husk of you.

    The will to live fled the banshee cries that come out of you.

    I don’t know how to get it to come back.

    I keep trying to gather the smallest pieces of us, but it feels like life is spilling sand through the cracks in our hourglass.

    Some days I wish you were gone, that the present was a wisp of a memory on our timeline and the past a balm to the scars on our hearts.

    I want to rush into tomorrow with open arms to welcome my life back but I can’t seem to hit the ground running.

    Because I want you to be there too.

    I want you to be here now, but everyday we lose more and more of you. 

    I don’t want to hate you, not in the slightest or at all, I just want you back.

    I want it all back the way it was, because you’d smile at me while you chew your food, a knowing smile. 

    One that rosies up your cheeks and makes your eyes twinkle.

    I hate that I hate you, because it’s not you, hasn’t been you in a long while but, sometimes, you look at me and that knowing smile creeps up, tinting your cheeks, letting me see that slight twinkle that shines just for my sisters and me

    And I can almost believe that I still love you and you still love me.

    But then it’s gone, swallowed up by your screams

    Wails of agony that pierce right through me.

    You’re still beautiful to me, even if life right now is really ugly.

    I might hate you right now but it’s not you I hate, it’s this disease.

    This hate exists only because there is so much love for you in me, without a home, without a place to sleep.

    I wish I could give you my strength, my years.

    I wish I could cure you with my tears. 

    I wish I could allay your fears.

    But alas, there is nothing more I can do but shed sweet poetry for you.