In my heart
Resides a speck,
A leech,
That latches
On melancholy.
It grows
Ever so slow
And turns itself into
A pebble.
This pebble of mine
Numbs my insides
And whispers words
Of my worthlessness
My uselessness
And so I succumb
And grow scared
Of stepping outside
I leave the door ajar
Just in case
***
My pebble
Paints the images I see gray
It feeds more
On my heavy
Heart
Until it becomes
A rock
That binds me to my
Bed
And forbids me from going
To the kitchen
I sigh
And it feels that
My heart
Will rip
Out
On each
Exhale
I close my
Eyes
And hear the ajar door
Squeak
***
A figure stands,
Illuminated by the lights coming from the kitchen
The figure,
Breaks the shackles of my bed,
And helps me carry my rock to the luminous kitchen.
We cook a meal
And for the first time in a while
Food isn't tasteless.
Outside,
Colours feel a little less gray.
The green feels greener;
The breeze, gentler;
The pebble, bearable.
I go back to my bedroom,
Not as a prisoner this time,
But as a guest.
I think of bringing plants,
Redecorate, maybe,
Perhaps get a dog.