Confession #8
I chant Fuck Depression!
And I almost think I could.
It’s just the two of us alone in this bed
sharing skin beneath a dirty, black sheet.
Its hands touch me in all my most sensitive places,
wrapping me in itself like it needs me,
and I beg it love me
even as it whispers, hot and breathy, in my ear:
I won’t.
No one ever will.