They call me melancholy, can you feel me?

I’m what makes you mourn over the loss of time, love, and company.

When the moon clocks in, and you sink into your bed-

I’m the thoughts that make you never want to wake up again.


People always say they’re looking for the day they reach complete bliss.

Happiness, though, it doesn’t work that way.

You’ll slide in and out of it your entire life, it’s not an achievement.

It’s a mental and emotional state.


I make you thankful for those good moments.

I make you bend, break, and build up.

I make you cave into loneliness

And understand what it means to have been through enough.


They call you melancholy, I can feel you.

You’re what makes me realize that I am not alone.

When the sun shows it’s rays, and I crawl out of my nightmares-

You’re the thought that someone else knows.


I don’t mind being lost, I just don’t want to be the only one.

I want to share my pain, my smiles, and all the scriptures in the bible-

that seemingly burn when touched by this sort of love.

I want to know that words mean more when you’re wrapped in a hug.


Maybe I’m going off on something that no one fully gets-

-but that’s okay.

I just want to remind you that we give life to what we expect.

Melancholy is a word fueled by perspective, and you fuel me with grace.


My soul, how you make words have meaning again.

My heart, how you make them appear in many ways with just one lense.

Words are fluid; To say we are broken doesn’t mean we’ll never be fixed.

When you say melancholy, you make it seem beautiful and like life makes sense.







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