My Melancholy,

I cannot welcome you anymore,
I can't run towards you
with open arms.
You make me think of the moment when Cinderella's  only hope
was reduced to shreds;
You tasted just as hopeless,
just as irreversible,
unleashing this desire in me
to turn my back on you.




**A/N: Looking forwards to happier days ahead  (: what did you think of this one? Please comment... thankyou for reading! ^.^

It's on days like these,
When the sky is a cloud,
That I wish I could sit
For a bit
In the sky-
And watch from a cloud
How the days go by;
How the world goes round,
And why people die.
It wouldn't be easy
Amongst all the chaos
To find any meaning
Or reason or rhyme.
Perhaps that is why
I decide to write poems;
My words all have meaning
And some of them rhyme!

Today, I am the feeling of falling, the
jolt of the unrealised last step
on the staircase.
I

Feel myself sliding
down a sheer cliff
face,   and turning
my face away from
all   of the       hand
holds and foot hold
s that could      save
me the fall.

Below me is the river, the one
you see in films, where the
crocodiles snap and scream and
the waves are shrieking too,
where the jagged, toothed rocks are reaching
up with their barbed fingers,
they pierce the air with vows to catch the fallen
and the hero can't hold on
for much longer.

But even though i try to shape these words into the silhouette of my descent, they only seem a shallow, shadow-shape i cannot make cement; and shadows cannot beat a heart with violent fear and fierce torment as my heart beats.

you were the lacunar bolt the part
of a life spent wishing on stars
if stars had ever granted anything but light

chatoyant the yellow pilot lamp
down the street trembles weakly
wanting to burn out it flickers like a sun
struggling long past its expiration date

I was an absquatulate scholar
of wrinkled bedsheets and the way
the light ineffable shone around us
as though we were the ******* center of it all

a slow-motion salvation is better
than instant gratification behind words
like I believe I can’t accept this
I will give you back

your left behind particulars: your lingerie
your photographs the calligraphy in your letters
the blanket I have slept under for three years
dreaming you might give me back the ring

I willfully saved for you in the abditory
between these walls I was building
for us broken promises refract sanguine light
and shape future homes into abandonment

I try so hard to move on,
But then you appear in my dreams
Right where you belong
In my cerebrum.

  I try to stand strong,
But then Everybody that I know are telling me
               You Moved On

But then there you were standing tall in a fog trying to send me a message in my dreams
Shouting my name achingly For me to
                Come Back To You

But then
in reality you moved on
with the girl of your dreams.
The kind of girl that pampers herself
And has an ultimate addiction of  her looks.

                                  _ismahan