My depression stands between me and the answers I wish to know, so I can understand what is going on in my life and mind. At times, what I seem to long for is a person; at times it's home; other times, it’s identity; and most of the time I can't even name or identify what it is I need. Nothing is stable or real.

There is always
a desire to leave.
I think of that
as I close my eyes
every night.
I yearn for a refuge
that feels like home.

The truth is,
I don’t feel
I’ve ever had
a home,
a refuge,
a place
to cry at night.

Listen to your heart,
they say.
But every broken piece
leads to a different path.
None takes me
to a safe destination.
Instead I find myself
at the edge of a cliff. 

After midnight,
when loved ones
are in bed together,
I lie awake, alone,
naked with no
desires or dreams.

The echo of my heart
beats against
my breath.
It hurts to be
alive sometimes.

In the dead of night,
I read books about solitude
and repressed dreams.
I listen to the last
song we heard together.
I remember
when we made love
with lust and big dreams.

I listen and cry,
knowing
I won’t have
the pleasure she once brought
to my life.
I weep.