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Melancholy
When the leaves were breathing and the cascading bouquet of my hair was shortened by half, there was melancholy.
Thee, come rescue me, I mockingly beg to the roots of ancient trees that might've witnessed old sins.
When the lights were off and the small world was brightnened only be the glow of falling sun, the melancholy wrote stories with its hands and words with broken fingertips.
When plastic love crawled out of the screen in rhymed steps, I struggled to embrace the alteration brought by the birth of the star and the swish of a moment.
You're etched in me, so run, just leave me be, the silent whisper coming from the deepest pit of the clearest sea.
No, come back, flied one more plea.
This minute.
When the hotness of the sky was peeling all readiness off my ravaged by winds of doubt skin, making me scream for one last breath of fresh air, I welcomed it with bare soul, lying intentions and pacific acceptance.
© Eurydice
Thee, come rescue me, I mockingly beg to the roots of ancient trees that might've witnessed old sins.
When the lights were off and the small world was brightnened only be the glow of falling sun, the melancholy wrote stories with its hands and words with broken fingertips.
When plastic love crawled out of the screen in rhymed steps, I struggled to embrace the alteration brought by the birth of the star and the swish of a moment.
You're etched in me, so run, just leave me be, the silent whisper coming from the deepest pit of the clearest sea.
No, come back, flied one more plea.
This minute.
When the hotness of the sky was peeling all readiness off my ravaged by winds of doubt skin, making me scream for one last breath of fresh air, I welcomed it with bare soul, lying intentions and pacific acceptance.
© Eurydice
