Depreciated

Oh Andrea, This just was really deep, and I know it must have been a hard piece to write, but I am sure it gives comfort.

Sometimes we become distances of ourselves, shadows, and we don't always feel like we are who we were and illness and hurt does that, the way you portrayed the changes we go through in our minds, and what we deal with when things are tough whether mentally or physically, or both.

I think this piece was something that you needed to write and needed to get out, so that it can be seen your love and want to help.

I love you.
xx

Andrea,
sometimes I find it so hard to try and leave a thoughtful comment on your poems... I'm always so blown away because I find them sometimes hard to interpret, but they always touch my heart with such beauty. This one does not fail, but I think I understand what you're saying, so I'm going to try and leave something worth reading for once, lol.

First stanza: This sets off the scene, that he is tripping up in his mind, that maybe he isn't always there, he isn't who he normally would be...he's trapped and fragile, easy to fall into the depths of sadness.

Second stanza: The house he built, the home that him and his family reside in, stays still in the night, a form of loneliness...a piece is missing and it doesn't feel the same.

"Unwanted visitors disease
the soul of a gutted shell,"

- Visitors, maybe even you, try to gain access to this shell, a shell that was once whole, but now it gutted ...I love this metaphor of feeling empty inside.

But even though this shell is hollow, you tend to his garden, you be there for him and wait to be invited in. You don't pressure him into opening up to you, you just wait for when he asks, for when he decides he needs to.

I love the thought of tending to his garden and waiting for the porch light to come on... it has an old southern feel to it.

<3