Written by m ennenbach

(un)titled loss III

depression rests it’s silky smooth wings over my cerebellum

it slides it’s fangs into the opioid receptors and feasts a feast of famine

for a moment

brief

yet
prolonged

it feels like the lips of the love you long to kiss so desperately in your dreams come true

then

a cold oily sense of discontent seeps into the pit of my stomach

was it always like this

so empty

i can’t quite recall

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