What Depression Feels Like
The liquid velvet, soft and deep,
A wonderfully warm tide to keep
The soul at rest, the skin in grace,
A gentle, all-encompassing embrace.
It holds the sun's forgotten art,
A yielding balm that mends the heart,
Sinking deep into the bone,
Where every coil of tension is overthrown.
A quiet joy within the chest,
A feeling wholly warm and blessed.
Not just physical, but a love untold,
A deep, inexplicable warmth to hold.
In peaceful suspension, time is still,
The outside world obeys the will
Of this sweet bliss, where nothing is near
But the gentle lapping of the heat held dear.
Then, a subtle shift begins to creep,
Disturbing the water from its sleep.
A whisper of coolness, a current's sigh,
A quiet, inevitable tide draws nigh.
Down and down, the sanctuary falls,
The warmth's core pulled through unseen walls,
A slow descent, the magic gone astray,
As the perfect feeling flows away.
Swiftly now the change is known,
A shocking cold, where heat was sown.
It hits the body, a sharp intrusion,
A sudden, stark, and cold confusion.
Creeping up the limbs, the awakening stark,
Leaving a chill, a profound, cold mark.
A sudden loss, a trailing dread,
As comforting heat has truly fled.
The final warmth is now withdrawn,
I lie in wait for the bleak, cold dawn.
The porcelain icy, the air is chill,
The once-magical pool is now still.
A container cold, and left alone,
A bleak and empty vessel of stone.
I shiver slightly, the memory's grace
Of that perfect heat still haunts this place,
Wondering why such a feeling could flee,
And depart so completely from me.
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