Insomniac summer nights and early mornings spent in solitude,
the kind of solitude that makes the night hollow
and so silent that every distant sound of the city only reminds you of your own loneliness,
reading (to feel less lonely), thinking and longing.
The recent tranquility and euphoria feel now distant; loneliness and my mindless longing
overshadow all that I foolishly thought would be, not forever, but somehow prolonged.
My longing for who? For you, of course.
Nothing feels too heavy though. I'm not sad, the atmosphere is melancholic, yes,
but I'm not sad. I know it's better this way, to be alone, on my own without you or anyone.
My longing for you is only a shadow that will soon enough vanish.
your words ring honest and true xx
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful and brimming with the delicacy of melancholy. These words resound in me deeply... That last line is perfection.
ReplyDeleteMelancholia is pleasing in a strange sort of way. Perhaps that seems like a perverse thought, but I suppose it makes sense coming from the me, the girl who finds sadness beautiful. :)
not wendy - Thank you xx
ReplyDeleteMelee - Thank you dearest. It makes a lot sense to me who also finds sadness beautiful. :)