A Loss of Feeling

about depression

My hands are cold,
Ice that moves into my wrists,
numbing touch on your skin.
I look into your eyes, but there's
absolutely nothing there,
and I feel nothing anymore.
My hands don't feel the bite of cold.
I just feel clenched lips as I try to hold a smile.
I know in this moment that nothing lasts.
I know you'll die, but the feelings have already ceased.
Our words are empty jars, and if they broke,
we'd only sweep
up the pieces and throw them into the trash.
We might forget a few shards, but that wouldn't matter.
A little blood in a cut never went to waste.
A few tears in a rut never helped you fade.
You're not here anymore, you won't notice,
but you never noticed anyway.
It didn't matter to you
except that blood never flowed out through my wrists.
I never understood, but all the while obeying, never doing,
never laying that razor blade there.
You never understood, but all the while disagreeing, never thinking,
never putting thoughts there.