An Ode to Melancholy

In Loving Memory of

It's beautiful but barren,
The moon and the night.
There are so many of them, spark and shy,
The stars in the sky.
But it's so naked, the soul in my eyes.

The winters are again cold
And I'm again a vagabond in my home.

I wind our tape back,
Bringing a classic black-white film-like daze,
To the first time we met.

There is something in my chest,
It's like an open piece of flesh.

The crimson water and a breakdown breath.
The December wind fondling my skin,
They close the world and I'm in my head brim.

I remember us, dancing beneath the twilight,
A hold that was warm and tight.
I remember you in my arms and sight.
I remember you, I remember us;
Crying, laughing, walking, talking, kissing, touching and loving.

This retrospect is like a broken thread,
I watch it with my eyes rimmed red.

The retrospect bewails: as a stone stood in old warfare,
It narrates with a certain detest,
I never cherished you enough,
I never kissed you enough,
I never touched you enough
And I was a fool for never loving you enough.

The look in your eyes and your starlight smile,
Voiceless care like the rain in dry.
The love you had for me is a precious memory.

I lost you in a crowded place,
Full of people that are strange,
And I left your hand again.
It's all gone to a daisy grave.

I'm in pain from toe to head
And my heart is a bleeding mess,
All gone in a delightful pain
And something that I won't unbind from me till the end.
My love, a precious memory you are-
A memory blessed with pain.