They do not tell you how it happens.
Ignoring the signs does not make them disappear.
The sadness has a voice now,
it speaks in moans and incoherent cries.

They do not tell you how it clings to you,
like a dog licking the back of your heels.
You find yourself stroking its fur,
making friends with your suffering.

They do not tell you not to love it.
To not sacrifice your sleep, your freedom.
They do not tell you depression is addicting.
Don’t touch it. Don’t let it in.
Do not fall in love with your pain.
It makes for an exhausting relationship.
You give, it takes.
Love is not supposed to look like that.
Love is not supposed to hurt like that.

Do not name the thing that follows you,
lock the doors and cover your ears.
It is howling, can you hear it?
Do not listen, do not listen.
Depression does not love back.