HerA Poem by The Poet of Black WingsShe looks like Melancholy. A sort of Sad state of being. Not in a Passing sort of way. Rather, it Follows her. I can feel it, Every time We meet.
It's a force that Pushes down on me. A Pressure, Unmistakable. It can only be her. So, I can tell. No matter what she Looks, or Sounds, or Smells, or Tastes Like, I can feel it. Always.
She follows me, all through my head. Stepping In and out of my Dreamscapes. It's hard to Avoid her.
I loath it. The feeling, That pressure, How she acts, how she is. I can't stand it… But…
I am afraid...
I love it. I crave it, I'm addicted. To that… Meloncholia. To her.
© 2016 The Poet of Black Wings |
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The Poet of Black WingsAbouti hope my poems, among other writings, will speak for me. Edit - Full disclosure, if you ask me to read something, I will, and I'll be brutally honest about what I think about it. So, be ready for .. more..Writing
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