This is a set of poems that I have been working on as I reflect on last fall. Trigger warning: suicide, self-harm, and depression.
Last fall my clothes were diagnosed with depression
three poems
the tights she wore last fall
were ruined almost daily
stretched over those crosshatched thighs
blood seeping through their artificial fibers
drying and hardening
we were stuck to her wounded legs
and then put in the wash for another day
the dress she wore on thursdays
was blue and black, like the bruise i felt i was
when she walked to that afternoon class
the shop windows displayed every insecurity
i never did fit her very well
the dress she wore on thursdays
had silver buttons and she wore black tights
on that day she forgot how to walk
and i was covered in parking lot dust
the skirt she was going to wear on the first of november
was bought for easter sunday
three years past
blue with flowers and a safety pinned pocket
i proudly accentuated her waist
but significantly
pockets
i had pockets that i could fill with rocks
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