giving your bones a reason to stay

Depression, you ride me like a jealous lover, like make up sex.

some days, you are old dust settling in my bones, keeping these
january limbs and monday morning coffee eyes warm.

other days, i don't know what to do with your tornado kisses, your
frantic love bites that mark my poetic skin, with these miles and
miles of hollow space between our magnet(ized) fields.

how is it that our light year hearts still beat in sync?

no, really. don't take this the wrong way, but if you are my only
choice of company, i'd just as soon be (a)lone(ly).

ghost