Depression, my love

I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Well I can, but the thought of giving up just sounds so sweet to me. I hold on tight to the one thing I know, but will never understand. Depression, my love, wraps his hand around my hip and pulls me in close. His lips rest on me as he places delicate lethal kisses all over my body. I am too tired to deny the attraction I have to his promises of dying, so I submit to him. He spews delicious words of suffocation and stone still eyes glazed over, like the icing of nothingness on a cake, into my ears. My body shivers, but his grip tightens forcing me to hold it all in. My body aches, and I watch as his lips curve up into a devilish smile. At least I make someone happy, I think to myself, as a tear slides down my cheek. I close my eyes as his cold dry hands run down my body. My screams remain locked in my throat, but I swallow, hard, and open my eyes. I stare into the face of depression and say, “I am yours.” His eyes burn with passion as he rolls on top of me, strips me of my sanity, and fills me with pure and true darkness.

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