Love Poem

Posted: June 2, 2013 in me

There’s a difference between melancholy and sadness.

Melancholy is warm & worn like an old friendly blanket.

Melancholy is where the merciful beauty lies.

Melancholy is the old friend who chooses silence over explanations.

Melancholy is who your soul is.

When it’s alone.

Melancholy is artistic utopia.

Melancholy is impatient like the longing of a kiss.

Melancholy is the candlelit record player.

Melancholy is the maniacal madness found at 3am.

The seemingly empty space that lies between tear filled eyes and notebooks.

Melancholy tastes like Billie Holiday and smells like Van Gogh.

Melancholy names you.

Claims you.

Tells you who you are.

Starts and ends your life.

A thousand times a day.

Melancholy will never ever leave you.

Even in sunshine.

And love.

Melancholy makes you pick up dropped pennies.

Throw them in wells.

And forget all of the things you wished for.

In exchange for everlasting contentment.

Melancholy isn’t bestowed upon you by another,

Melancholy is the midwife.

Who held you during your first breathe.

Melancholy is what makes you brave.

And foolish.

And exquisite.

And cherished.

Melancholy will never abandon you.

Or disappoint.

Melancholy is the wedding ring that holds your heart in place.

Never letting it break clean through.

Melancholy is the grey lack of loneliness that knows you best.

Melancholy, my love.

  1. Uncle Wolf says:

    I remember Robin Williams in “Moscow on the Hudson” talking about cherishing his misery and holding it near….

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