Unfortunate

Did you ever picture me,

Pantless in bed, with my

Blindingly pale legs, as I

Sipped my tea and read

My books?

Did you ever picture my

Room, cluttered and messy

With the trinkets my

Depression has collected?

Useless books, candles,

Notebooks and makeups

I bought to fill the void.

A collection of mugs that

Live on my nightstand table

Beg for a washing; the same

Goes for my mirror, tv screen

And computer screen.

The dust is just another

Coat of the depression

I can’t seem to wipe away.

I pictured you in plaid,

Strumming a guitar, or

Fingering a piano, tinkering

Away at the dark hours.

I picture your hair resting

Softly around your somber

Face, with your dim eyes

That follow the void.

Why do we follow the void?

You are a mysterious, and,

Unfortunate mother fucker.

Didn’t you picture us together?

Didn’t you ever think that

It was supposed to be you and I?

That I would be the one to

Swaddle your throbbing heart.

To kiss and mend your broken

Pieces, I would excel at it.

I guess your vanity got in the way.

How unfortunate it is to hold

Oneself back.

How unfortunate it is to lose.