Poems

Meloncholy

With quiet words,
And tasteful hearts,
We step into the light
Of an unknown street.

It's roads are long,
And dimly lit,
By the open windows,
Of shitty apartments.

It's comfortable
Unfamiliarity
Sends shivers down
My spine -

My fingertips
tingle,
Like the venom
Of a bee sting.

And our hearts
They ache,
For the knowledge
Or our surroundings.

But we walk on,
Down the road,
Unknowing
Where to go.

Until
We find a spot,
That strikes something within;
A memory.

And we know
The name of this street
Is melancholy.

And
on Melancholy drive,
Our hearts are painted
In an ally;

Between two houses,
Our anxiety,
And our depression,
Talk in an unexplainable rhythm.

And our painted hearts
Beat faster and faster
Until finally -
They stop.

And here we go again,
Walking down a road,
Of whom we don't know
The name.

And we step
With care
And fear,
Of the unknown.

Making sure
Not to wake the inhabitants,
Not to bother a outside
Dog;

Not to be reminded,
Of the past times
We've trudged
Down this drive.

But no matter
How careful you are
Or how quiet
You may be

There will always be something
That brings you back
To melancholy.