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MELANCHOLY | Melancholy drips from my fingertips.
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This melancholy drips from my fingertips so slowly, you begin to forget I even exist. All of me, the hard parts of flesh you could never seem to love, drips down the drain. I am waiting for the day for your fingers to unscrew the pipes, dig through debris and mess, scrape your heart against the rust, just to find me, so we can go through it all over again.
Here, in the pages I find myself, in the ink that writes against my flesh, I will whisper the sadness, the heartache, and the decaying for all of the unspoken.
Perhaps under this layer of melancholy,
the girl I once knew still exists.
ο ½ ο ½ ο ½
First poetry collection in the series.
Original poems based off real life experiences.
#12 in poetry.
Cover template made by @KaleidoGraphix on Canva.
π΄πππππππππ copyright Β© May Garner. 2017. All Rights Reserved.
