Poems

Numb (A Grey Christmas Melancholy)

Numb (A Grey Christmas Melancholy)

by: Clara Cecilia Cordero

Numb.

I feel numb, absurd and hollow. Apparently sad, apparently down. Depressed, alone and done for.

I raise the filled glass, toasting for hope, for love. For an unknown future. filled with doubts and questions. Doubts in me, in you. Questions about everything and anything at all. I softly call Good night and joy be with you now. The silver bells, the bright lights, and the glittery ornaments make of this a grey atmosphere.

An already lost battle with the untamed enemy. With a blink of an eye the course has change. The sad book I read is the reason of that soft shine on the back of my eyes. The time I fall for a better life than the one I live today, yesterday and tomorrow. The symbolism of the togetherness makes me believe that the past is today and the future is already long gone.

The cold air feels like home. Strong walls and empty rooms. The knowledge of the fullfillment of the empty spaces makes it bareable. Nothing feels correct except the awful home scent of a grey Christmas Melancholy. It feels like violins on the highiest of them, notes. It taste like water on the usual granted clearness. Smells like dusty rooms and burned oak. It feels cruel and cold against my skin; cutting open leaving scratchess, but it feels like home to me.

Not a hug or a kiss. No cuddle or snuggle all I crave on this cold winter night is to feel once again. Bitterness once again, loneliness and pain. But all I ever get is the bubbly liquid down my throat after a bland toast on this Christmas dinner night. In which the melancholy is eating me inside, but all I do, but all I say is nothing and numb enough for you not to worry about. The emptyness in me ig good enough for the both of us. Now tell me again all the laws and the lies of a wine seller, because that what we need, what we crave. Share a teal of laugh or pain just wet your face to seem honest, but on the end the feeling of the hard wall and empty rooms will caught up with you too. On the bitterness of this. My Grey Christmas Melancholy on numb note.