Melancholy.

There is a quiet melancholy,

that stains my soul.

I tried to wash it off,

with positive thoughts,

and a walk in the sun.

But a stubborn stain it is,

that after all the

washing,

scrubbing,

and,

rubbing,

it reveals itself,

unmoved.

But it does not boast,

rather,

it’s almost like it has nowhere else to go,

hovering in the background,

among the shadows of my soul.

Only occasionally,

surfacing to the realm of physical,

with a silent, heavy sigh.

A dedication to my beautiful friend, Marie. The only consolation I can offer is that it will pass. Accept it, embrace it, and use it to love yourself even more, And then, perhaps, you will find that it has disappeared. My melancholy, which hovered for weeks, soon disappeared after writing this poem.

© 2013