i’ve become far too comfortable with sorrow. i’ve let her inside, i let her touch me, i let her sleep in my bed. she’s burrowed herself inside each and every pore on my body, as if she would be a tick, slowly sucking life from me. i let this beautiful beast get comfortable, she’s intwined her legs in mine, i can smell her in my sheets. she ruffles my hair all day. 

this depression has become a gorgeous companion with whom i cannot keep from lusting over.