Heatherlee Eldridge

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The Best Poem Of Heatherlee Eldridge

Depression

Lately when asked,   how are you I respond with words no longer living.

passion, romance, affection, acceptance

I am alive by choice at this point. I wonder often; if the gun that will unmake me is yet made, what baleful birth will bury me,  

How many bullets, like a flock of blackbirds,  will come carry my depression to its final bed.

Which photo will be used to water down my blood. Today I did not die and there is no god or law to thank the bullets missed my head,  

and landed in another. Today I passed a mirror and did not see a body, instead a suggestion, a debate,  

a blank post-it note there looking back.
I haven't enough room to rage and weep. I go to cry and each tear turns to steam.

I say "I matter" and a cold ghost hand appears over my mouth.

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