To the Lady

The inside of and oven... fuck it. The last place you would go to find peace of mind.
You smelt the gas and with the warm welcome of a dreaming child pulling over a blanket to dream better said "goodnight".
It must have been depression. It must have been threading through your mind and swimming in your veins.
You forget late august days that burn on and on like wicks with no candles to soften the flame.
You know everyone of those nights in May that carry catalyst for change.
What happened when battling that murderous self.
I know the battle goes on. Die to try.
The crisp voice that creeps and crawls around every thought with potential. I’ll teach myself like you to be a better teacher. Forget the day before. Your good self will see all the colors in the spectrum.
Taste each meal and savor each crumb. With dogged determination I will join the masses and get through each day kicking the demon.