Housewarming - a poem.

It was an uncomfortable affair when my happiness finally shook hands with my depression.
Through sideways glances I told them that they must reside in the same vacancy.
Learn to mingle in the smallest of nooks and crannies.
To not cry over spilt milk at thanksgiving, but not necessarily laugh either.
It was an uncomfortable affair and move in day came at the blink of an eye.

On Friday mornings happiness would dance around the kitchen but depression always made sure it was with a bottle of vodka pressed too firmly to the lips.
Depression would fill the bathtub just a bit too scaulding but happiness would light the candles.
Happiness liked her tea cups on the bottom shelf but depression liked the tea cups scattered on the ground in tiny chips.
Happiness could not help falling in love with depression through shifts at work, crouching into bathroom stalls to let the rivers flow from my eyes when the moment felt right.
Now they share the same bed at night, shaking hands exploring throughout hours of headlights shifting through the blinds
Depression always calling happiness mine.

He told me he didnt understand how I could be depressed but also be the happiest I have ever been
I guess I became comfortable with the chaos,
The feeling of emotions leaking from my chest like bad toxins
Do not question what you do not know and we won't have a problem.

I want to buy a big microscope to count the dead skin cells on my floor.
Admire how they were once a part of me
And see if any out there belong to the shadow of who I used to be.
Mingled into the cracks on the floor boards
I wonder which skin cells shed happiness, falling off and floating through the humid air with nothing but elated joy. Feeling loved by its surroundings.
Or which ones fell out of misery, not feeling comfortable in itself just knowing rainy days don't make the good things stay.