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A husk, a shadow,
a memory now weak.
A place to avoid,
a number to delete.
A face to forget,
a life given up.
A name to erase,
etched into your skull.
A myriad of hopes,
to remember as dreams.
A time spent alone
to weaken the seams.

A reason to drink.
A reason to cry.
A reason to laugh.
A reason to lie.
A past to detest,
a loss to accept.
A reason to bruise,
to soften the truth.
An excuse to abuse;
a home, to lose.
David Hutton Jul 2017
The troubles buried deep in past.
Life doesn't look like it will last.
Finding a way-out,
His final check-out.
May the other-side be a contrast.
It was in a small town where I first felt love.
It was in our small town from nowhere where I first saw that smile;
that smile that could light up a room, or the whole world, even.
It was in that small town where we made a promise,
a promise that we'll both come back,
a promise we both failed to keep.
You see, darling, it was in that town where I had my very first heartbreak.
It was that town which saw my worst fears realized become a reality.
I was in that town when I received the news:
that you're never coming back.
In this town, I knew love but lost it too soon.
Yet this town will soon welcome a hero of the war, in a coffin enveloped by the country's emblem.
This town will welcome a son and shall soon engrave his legacy on a stone.
But I know I can't stay in this town for long, not when the signs speak of your name, not when the streets sing of your footsteps.
Darling, this town is not ours no more.
This old town speaks too much of our tragedy, of a love forever lost.
It is this town that symbolizes what we both had and what we'll never have.
And now I'm leaving this town to forget, to keep my sanity.
But as I leave this town, please know that I'm never leaving your memory.
**For it is one thing to forget this town, but quite another to forget my world: you.
Girard Tournesol Oct 2018
Alone, you are not alone,
     for I am there with you on that walk
     through fields of melancholy
and Queen Ann's lace.

In your garden of tears,
     hands soiled with loam,
     I am at your side gardening
the mint and the lemongrass.

In the rain, that walk in the rain,  
     you are not alone.
I am there with you on that walk.
Though ten thousand see a terrible fear,
you will feel me and my love in that rain,
in the flashing clouds
      and the thunder and the rain.
I am the mud
      between your toes and your fingers.
And in the end when you wash your hands,
in that silence of finality,
there I will be helping you   wash. those. hands.
> As published in The Mirror
melancholy eyes glaze over
the old honeycomb wallpaper pattern
and the mottled ceiling, paint peeling
noting every crevice in your new apartment
my consciousness dips in and out
of every nook and cranny, catching
fragments of the conversation.
you should always be the centre of attention.
i'd tried to entertain the notion, you'd noticed
my eyes in the ceiling and ushered me back
to the boring evening tea room with a gentle
fingertip or two pressed to my wrist.
do you wish you were somewhere else?
would you read my tea leaves and tell me,
what does the future hold for us?
Marg Balvaloza Aug 2018
Mga matang pilit na ipipikit /
maalala at maramdaman lang
ang masayang pinagsamahan.

Mga matang pilit na ipipikit, ‘di sa kadahilanang sobrang sakit,
kundi sa kadahilanang
ito na lang ang tanging paraan
upang mabalikan
ang masayang
  n a k a r a a n.

At some point., being that girl with hyperthymesia makes everything a little too hard when moving forward.
aquis Sep 2018
i’ve missed your cold warmth
your cozy melancholy
that sets my leaves free
“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” Albert Camus

Angela Liyanto Oct 2018
The bitter blueness of melancholy hit and kissed me,
That beastal mood, who vouches in burdened pity,
It wraps me in sickly heart-strings & closed me tight,
Longing for breath, I near choked in agony streams,
How passive is this music, while trembling Venus sparks Love,
With long beams of hope declared, but little is there for me!
I so wish my heart will collapse, that suns of silver
Teach me to seek her Light, but with my endeavours lost,
I sit by holy castings of dying babels and their mothers
And weep with them, soon to replay their parts,
Should I suffer these heating cries or leave my place?
The invisible lashings of Melancholy has wounded me,
     Forlorn music plays His beating, and he will not leave me,
     Nor can he be tamed, even by the flaming might of Nike.
meqan Jan 21
anger tends to creep up silently,
much like a cat would to its prey.

anger dwells in the pit of your stomach,
slowly eating away all other emotions.

it steals your happiness, your pride,
your everything.

until you’re nothing more than
a ball of anger and sadness.
free verse poem.
Arianna Oct 2018
I have sailed upon the tossing seas,
And seen the sunsets turned to wine;
I’ve watched the waves lap ravenously,
Those suns down from the blazing sky.

Beneath the brilliant stars on deck,
The ivory-winged sail-birds soaring high overhead,
I’ve anticipated the shadows of mystery worlds
Peering inquiringly over the tides, as a child from her bed.

Day breaks, and I wander foreign shores once more,
But the lustre of Morning gleams wan;
I pass avenues of roses, eerily sure
Of having passed them already countless times before.

Day falls like clockwork,
Night’s indigo blood drips once more
Through the heavens.

                               But Blue is eternal.


All are consumed
In the madness of the Sea,
Throwing herself against the rocks
And shattering:

                                         High-tide suicide.

The ivory-winged sail-birds
Hang listless:


                       No sea-breath buoys them upon the air,
                           Nor current bears me here or there.

Not here,
        Not there,
                 Upon the sea ⸺

                                             Not anywhere
                                             Is home to me.

But had I wings
To call my own,
I’d cut those angelbirds free;

And far from earthly seas we would fly,
Darting and dizzy between the planets whirling
Across the Universe

Weary with wandering,


                 ­                           Paper cranes

                                    In death dream

                                                         ­ Vertigo.
Maria Monaghan Jul 2018
The sun sets on Ireland,
patchwork fields illuminated by the august light of
abiding memory.

Misty hues spilling
over the mountains,
glimpsed through a mist of tears
fighting not to be shed.

The last sunset
of a brief glimpse of manic happiness
and friendship
and love.

The fields flash by,
each one transforming into a rose-coloured memory,
and a tsunami of melancholy threatens to
knock me down.

Heavy sighs and
knowing looks and
held-back tears and
one last caress of your sun-kissed skin.

The sun sets on Ireland
And opens into a bright new tomorrow.
Jesse stillwater Dec 2018
It was Winter 1st
   not long ago,
the longest night
lay bare next to me
    like a dream
     that passes
     then recurs —
hearing the silence
   whisper softly
as a colorless echo

      Withal —
    the shortest
half light minutes,
grey wintry mood
  without hope
   of blue sky
impending lightly:

   even a glass
      half full
under a solstice
     full moon,
  is only a glass
     partly full
  of moonlight

Twice as much
still leaves you
   half empty;
  and every tear
tastes the same
     in winter

Jesse stillwater — winter 2018
Thank you for reading, wherever you may be
Marianna Aug 2018
                      and misery
a pure soul shrouded in secrecy mystery
more unexplored than vast cosmic voids
half a lover
                     half a paranoid
Isa Dec 2018
I'm suffocating on my heart that's stuck in my throat
because the tears streaming down my cracked face
started to drown the stars that bloomed in my head.
those stars that lit up my most midnight of skies.
the infinite universe that you split open in my mind
was what showed me the true galaxy past my dulled nebulas.
because you told me "the universe was made
just to be seen by my eyes".
the universe you made with my bloodied hands.

and when you told me this,
for a split second
I could see colors again
and the nights didn't seem so lonely
in that galaxy
and my heart didn't choke anymore
on my stained stars.

I could never make anything brighter
or more real
than the love you showed me I could have again.
because how beautiful it is to try and love
Dominic Wright Sep 2018
I am now a prisoner in the sea of emotion.
The moon captured me
But the stars were the guide to where I was.
As the night sky's tinted window hardly allowed room to breathe.
I suffocated in melancholy.

What is darkness?
A foreign concept the moon couldn't understand,
Not even on its most luminous day.
you left this world
with no last words
it was too early
or maybe too late

i cried a little
but not enough
a tear went down

from my eyes
to my lips
the bitter taste
of a single tear

no feelings felt
no attachments dwelt

my soul
a lost hole
my last breath

when will we ever meet
when will we ever bleed

hand in hand
until the very end
My grandfather passed away, I see all those people around me are sad I should be sad but I'm not
corpser Sep 2018
I will die in this world completely oblivious to the truth.
Face down rotting in an unmade bed.
And in death, I’ll meet god if I’m lucky enough.
He can absolve all my sins for me in this earth.
And all would be fine.
All would be fine.
Thu Phuong Feb 4
Coffee in the morning
Songs or simply talking
Laughter with occasional spatting
Writing, singing and lazing
Such is the bubble I’m living
Day in, day out
One I’m scared of losing
as the clock is ticking, loud
and demanding, the waves
keep crashing, while I
will carry on dreaming
'til the cuckoo sounds...
Kitt Nov 2018
It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
The hour where naught is awake but
Lovers and dreamers
And those deemed too far gone by the rest of us;
To which we send a wilting flower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
Here I mourn the loss of life
When I took a sterile sword to my own heart
And peered into the gaping, gaping void
Dissolving away the ghost that haunts my hollow tower.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
I mourn the incursion that initiated it
Mourn a life I have known so well
As well as a life I think I shall not meet
Tied, side by side, in a waking melancholy sour.

It's three in the morning
The mourning hour.
Doves less mournful than I have passed on to sleep
And he is, as I dream, forming faster each day
Only now, in death, so dear to me
And I reach out, into the darkness of the night
And end the mourning hour.
An eternal grieving I shall bear forevermore.
Emmanuella Jan 23
"Hello, little Little shoulder,
Haven't you seen a bucket of tears over the years?
Or was it?
Was it all just yesterday?"
Because it very well could be.
Inspired by the saying: "You can cry on my shoulder."

~~A little melancholy question for her shoulder.~~
yv Nov 2018
I miss my sanity

but for now

let me love

the insanity

you taught me

let me bask in it

until i learn to love you

and forget

about wanting to escape it

in the first place
Afia Jul 2018
A shaft from the golden sun,
reclined peacefully in my lap.
The amber gleam reflected back,
and gently baked the solemn land.
An ardent whisper furnished the woods
with a viridescent scent that woke up the woods.
Silver songs of sleek streams,
chased the lullabies away;
Ancient tress cuddled the wind,
their leaves clapped in sheer bliss
The broken winged white eyed bulbul,
warbled hymns to lift the curse.
Scarlet tainted vintage letters resting in the rustic mailbox,
await your tender touch; while they chant for a past long gone.
But lily livered clouds,
they have turned your courage into a yellow illusion.
So now defy the toxic words and the errors you made,
A different person inside your skin, long ago, burned our hearts on the hateful flames.
I look for answers in Nature.
The day you told me to leave
Was the day you ended up staying
My normal escape from all my pain
Was now seized by your image
I could close my eyes at any moment
And see yours staring right back at me
Your deep brown eyes still fill me with wonder
And even in my mind you still melt my heart
I am tortured by this illusion
You never left my thoughts
You festered in my mind
Unlike my unfortunate reality
You stuck around, still visiting my dreams
I am torn to call them nightmares or horrors
Because beauty like this doesn’t exist in those
But dreams don’t bring pain like this either
And not having you there is a horror all it’s own
When I wake up alone in my bed
I turn to my side and discover a void
An empty space where you still belong
Only in my dreams do I still feel you there
Only in my dreams can I see you’re still there

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