Original poem by M. Rain all rights reserved
Bracelets, Depression and How to Grow A Sunflower
A tan office,
A tall, too-skinny woman in a mini
Skirt sits on the brown couch across from and crosses her legs
Her bracelets ting when she moves her boney wrists.
When she asks me, smiling,
"How does that feel?"
I laugh.
Because it does not feel like anything.
My depression
Is not a tangible thing.
Yet it has me in its grip
Constantly. It is not simple as covering your cuts
With bracelets. Or sleeping in.
It is walking to class
Wishing to get hit by a car in the crosswalk.
She cocks her head
Like a boxer dog, and sighs.
I'm not cooperating, she hates it.
The metal on her wrists
Bang together;
Dressing the blood in charms
Only draws more attention to it.
I am bored with tan walls.
I've always liked the color of the sun,
Just not enough to paint my bedroom walls yellow
Or bathe in acrylic paint.
I've never been to a sunflower farm
I've been the water
Helping them grow.
I never touch what I'm not supposed to.
the petals are too delicate,
I break everything I touch
every step forward
Means 10 steps back,
Means more therapists
More tan walls,
More bracelets, more meds.
I lay in bed looking up,
The ceiling is only white
But I can see the sunflowers if I really look.
I can feel the blankets
if I really want to
I can let you love me.
oct. 2017
YOU ARE READING
A Bundle of Lavender: Poetry Collection
PoetryA bundle of lavender is the collection of my poetry that I hope to publish for real someday. I will continue to add to this as I work my way through my notebooks and type my poems (they all begun handwritten, afterall.) Enjoy!
