the haunting of melancholy

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a/n: posting a few of the poems i've written these past couple months. i hope this makes sense, i've written this one from a feeling that i've experienced more recently.

tears arrive unbidden, 
as i lie, suspended 
between hollow breaths and trivial moments, 
suddenly consumed, inundated, 
in quiet cascades of ache. 

they rise like specters, 
the silenced lament of something abandoned, 
an exile of sorrow lodged too deeply 
for conscious recall, 
yet spilling over, 
as if grief itself were an undertow, 
inarticulate, insistent, 
bearing the weight of unspoken depths. 

i watch, as if distant, 
an unwilling witness to this sorrowful purge— 
a vessel emptied of feeling 
yet filled with ache, hollowed and echoing, 
the way a heart bruised too many times 
learns to ache without reason. 

perhaps it is the cumulative grief 
of a soul suppressed, 
the disowned, orphaned sorrow, 
overcrowded, neglected, 
that surges forth, relentless and raw, 
a flood breaching walls 
carefully built of denial. 

and so, here i lie, 
as this estranged fragment of me, 
this haunted, aching specter, 
cries out alone— 
for all the wounds i've buried 
and all the tears i've chosen not to shed.

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