Rent

A year ago,
all I did,
was light incense sticks,
and listen to Black Flies by Ben Howard,
on repeat,
and I'd make love to my mattress,
without any sheets,
because I didn't have the energy,
to fix them,
after I had tossed and turned,
the entire night before.

That dip in the mattress,
was my depression,
and I would sink,
into its quilted soft comfort,
so often that I should have,
started paying hourly rent.

Now,
I wear dresses,
and paint my toenails,
when they chip,
and order Japanese takeout,
with some of my new friends;
and it seems,
that I don't have to pay rent,
after all.