All winter you spoke of my depression,
that darkness that slipped around me
controlling every non-movement
that even thought about moving.
All winter you spoke of my depression,
as if I needed reminding
that even the idea of the pending spring
could not hope away my numbing freeze.
All winter you spoke of my depression.
“Get out of the house,” you suggested.
“Call your friends,” you suggested.
“Go to the gym,” you suggested.
All winter you spoke of my depression
and for Valentine’s Day, you bought me a treadmill
because I was blah about my weight
but I never wanted to leave the house.
You bought me a treadmill.
Oh, the irony of your purchase!
You bought me a treadmill
so I could walk and walk and walk
in place.
