Your Side Chick, Depression

How dare you… how dare you
Choose her over me

This cunning vampire in the
Dark Mood Disorder Whore

For those few days a week when she whispers in your ear
When she dms you… come and sit with me
When she sends you the video of her lower legs
with Knee High Socks and Mary Janes

How dare you go to her side?
She is tricking you baby
Sex trafficking you
Making you feel like a Virgin, Darling

Day after day after day.

Making you feel
Inept and lacking in bed
Flaccid Erectile Dysfunction

She doesn’t even want to soap your body in the shower —
She leaves you dirty.
Before and After.

She sure as fuck doesn’t feed you—
I am cooking all the time, lover!
Reminding you to go to the store
To take care of yourself/feed yourself—
Until I can get there

She lives behind your eye sockets
Wet needle in arm sucking the life from you
Doesn’t care how you’re feeling or if she is

Destroying you… she is a selfish shadow of a woman
And you an idiot to go to her side!

She will destroy you, kill you
She doesn’t even know your address
Your middle name, the sounds you make while making love
She prefers to sit outside your room and laugh while you
Cry. She enjoys your anxiety

When you feel like a little boy she brings you candy;
Makes your blood sugar spike, then slaps her knee laughing.

To come right down to it:
She is the men in lab coats
She is the machine with electrodes
She has burned the gray matter between your ears

Erased the good memories and implanted Mood Disorder Pain
She hovers behind you like Patrick Swayze in Ghost
Intertwining her fingers with yours; the real murderer
Still at large in your Mind Apartment

Waiting, waiting for you to close your eyes.
To find a good pillow to sit upon your face and smother you with —
Takes your last breath into her mouth until you are dead,
And cannot come to see me ever again

The one who wishes to protect you; interlace our fingers
Smile and love you
Gift you orgasms and bask in your skin
So warm and happy

This fucking heinous bitch, depression cunt.
I hate her for every time she wins

Photo by Vitaliy Shevchenko on Unsplash

Written by 

Elisabeth Horan is a poet mother student lover of kind people and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She writes to survive and survives to write - We are all battling something. Let's support each other. Elisabeth enjoys riding horses and caring for her cats, chickens, goats and children (not necessarily in that order). She teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.

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