Usually my favorite month of the year.


August Depression


Like a hollow
concave,
inside my ribcage
protected from any
well-meaning well-wishers
who would cheer me.

Even I can't get to it
too well-hidden
but not small.
I know it would show on an X-ray,
a black smudge of sadness,
from, I suppose, too many disappointments,
breakups, losses,
I can't count them all.

Like any illness
you'll find me in bed
staring at the ceiling
hoping for a cure,
sure there isn't one.
After awhile even hope disappears
leaving only a trace behind
like the wet spots on my pillow.


August 17, 2009
© Anne Westlund




Poetry by Anne Westlund
Read 646 times
Written on 2009-08-23 at 07:31

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NicholasG
I've had August blues ever since the world introduced me to school. To this day, when the days get shorter and the shadow's angles begin to turn, I feel sad and ill at ease. It's funny though, I love the autumn.
This is a very enjoyable and well written poem.
Thank you for sharing it. It's nice to see you posting here
:-) Nick
2009-08-23



"...a black smudge of sadness...." Powerful image of depression. Sometimes naming them and trying to describe our feelings does seem to help. Striking poem.
2009-08-23