Melancholy

MELANCHOLY Why destroy my sunny day with storms, wipe the smile from my twinkling eyes, dimpled cheeks? Like bony-fingers pulling me down, into the abyss, darkening my hair and my skin - aperture shut tight. Oppression of yellow-daisy lids underneath a mass, of ice-cold leaves. They keep falling overnight, an avalanche. It’s the glowering words, burning like fuel - a lasting impression, a roaring brew, simmering melancholic stew. One that tastes gravelly, breathes heavily into my nostrils - the phantosmia-stench of smoke. Nightmares of copy-paper flying, disheveled through the air, of books cascading off shelves, flood of sadness billowing. My pen begins to write my story, then scrawls like tears, dripping ink everywhere. Flamboyant-ink blots, rorschach-blue. 10/21/2017