Melancholia

Melancholia Sometimes my soul aches, in the morning light Dappled as it arrives through the curtains My dad says it’s a beautiful day and, indeed, I perceive it as beautiful..trees, people But something cold runs through my blue veins As I inspect my wrists to make sure they’re mine I find my eyes unsure of where to settle Glazed over like a foggy mirror Seeing but not seeing I ask them not to take my picture, For behind my eyes water sloshes around As if in a glass, threatening to pour over Choking out words for people, all alive in conversation I feel I am peeking in at their world, mute As it rolls by in laughter and togetherness As the sun comes up and falls away again I walk down the road that has become a desert And I keep walking, watching, waiting For the next mirage that I can try to hold onto ~For Craig Cornish’s Contest “Anatomy of Melancholy”