the piano sits quietly,
aloof, alone, silent.
i have retreated to the couch,
cowering under the weight of listlessness.



my creativity has gone on vacation,
my emotions have resurrected the angst
and i wish the day would swallow me whole.

sleep is such a sweet drug for melancholics.
we consume bottles of it's sticky syrup.
fighting responsibilty, slinking off to dreamland,
hoping our restless minds surrender without delay.

i was so sure.
I had left this place.
i was wrong,
and I cannot decide.
what is driving my disappointment?
should I regret my haste in declaring my sanity?
perhaps I should rue it's demise.
But, here I am again,
silenced by my sulleness.

the piano turns away
and my soul rages at my inactivity.

ah, sweet melancholia
peaceful grey,
dark place
of the heavy soul
familiar refuge
secluded recluse

i have returned to your arms,
wrapped in your comfort
the cool embrace
of withdrawal and solitude

little grey cloud
you hover in blue skies
have I welcomed your shade?
is this madness?
am I my own abuser?

gentle hands,
come.
touch my doubt

you who understand,
tell me my story
your wise words
have healed me
more than many times.
they have found this hiding place,
they guard my frail trust.

yet even now,
i see hope.
i float,
not sinking into the deep.
there is no fear that stalks
through locked rooms.
perhaps the shadows
are the angels friends?

ah melancholia,
you are a peaceful grey,
your dark has been joined
by light.
this is a familiar place,
a secluded refuge.

peace.
i am fully known.
safe,
no hiding place,
i am naked
on the plains of mercy.

the waters
drench my skin
a deluge,
every drop
unearned.
the dryness of my heart:
saturated
I'm soaked to the core.
love rains upon my heavy soul.

laughter,
a smile breaks free
from the rusty shakles,
and I am beyond words.