Category: Melancholia

at last

June 27, 2025

he came, at last, to my hope.
around his eyes, brief, infinite,
knowing nothing.
it is agile and clean like the
tender wind of the early morning,
cheerful and soft and deep as
grass under water.
he gets sad sometimes
with that mural sadness
that makes quick idols on his face
and draws worried ghosts.

i think it’s like a little girl
asking an old lady things,
like a giddy donkey
entering a city,
full of straw.
he also has a mature woman
who suddenly frightens his gaze
and moves inside him and
bites his insides with tears.

THREADS OF AN OLD LIFE

February 4, 2024

they told us to just

“go back”

like it was nothing

and everything was going

to be fine.

and it would all be

“normal.”

“let’s just get back,

y’know,

to the way things were.”

and what way is that,

exactly?

run into the ground.

weak.

exhausted.

completely burnt out.

although,

i did try

at first,

to simulate

a life vaguely resembling

the one I remembered.

gathering those

old threads

to weave

into something

new.

but the result was patchy

and threadbare.

what was once deemed

beautiful, now ugly.

something else was

mixed and woven

into my skin.

and the more i

resisted, the more it

pulled and tugged and

bled, as i refused to

accept the foreigner

that was squatting inside

me like a toad.

dark days realised.

but i needed

leverage to reach

the blue dome above.

and to land on jagged

rocks at the bottom is often

the only escape.

you can always look up

when you’re down

and witness the vast

expanse of

studded stars.

BROKEN PALACES

February 3, 2024

i walk towards broken palaces

like ivory towers

in the distance, castles covering the falling stars

that cascade onto crumbling sand dunes.

my heart it shatters like glass

but that doesn’t stop me from

running so fast towards you –

away from you

and into the dark forest where it is always

night but no moonlight

shines, only the illumination of

my soul that throws a glow

of enchanted curiosity.

what was it that led me here?

what was the spark that ignited

the fires? as the clouds gathered

overhead and turned silver

like swans.

what electricity travels through me

and who is even writing now?

if i stop the magic stops;

like water not flowing, rivers not running

and i know i’ll never stand still,

like a shark constantly swimming

to avoid dying,

and all the king’s horses,

and all the kings men,

could never put me back

together again.

and when it rains i cry

and it cries when i reign.

but i am no queen, like a pauper

i am

begging outside these stone walls that we built

pleading for your time

and your mercy.

CORA AND THE CROW

December 21, 2023

what bird is this

that comes to me

so late at night

and speaks sweetly

bringing word

of places unknown

with tales of forests

overgrown

of running rivers

never dry

of star filled nights

that shine and thrive

it whispers to me

where i reside

a dank, dark well

amidst the tides

for i know no sunrise

or blue moon that shines

my world is darkness

and endless night

poem 2.1

July 3, 2023

a billion to one

we travel through billions of molecules everyday
that gather on either side of us,
and sometimes it is hard
to see the beauty through the endlessly mundane.
flowers floating in sewage water.
it’s about looking at the road
from a different perspective.
there is a reason that the path you chose
is less traveled.
it’s dirty and difficult and confusing.
anyone can be content,
even happy,
if you choose to seek adventure.
in every person there is a hero;
in every task there is a quest.
it’s a billion to one
that you’re even here.
what are the chances of your mother
meeting you father?
what were the odds
that they would fall in love?
we are all artists
waiting to paint.

moonlight

June 22, 2022

i walk across the bridge alone

in the cold moonlight

i see your face in every

passerby

and those that see me cry.

the innocent moon

that does nothing but shine.

i came back

angry and offended

and see the willow tree.

poem #31

June 27, 2021

the moon

he was like the moon,
cold and distant - 
but always within reach.
she would watch him
from the bottom of her well.
she often heard laughter
echoing through her chamber.
the stone walls that encircled
glistened with blue light;
small comfort.
she would sometimes sing;
that unsettled him,
shattering his illusions
of a perfect world.
the rope had been cut - 
long ago.
she knew it had been him.
the neglected forest,
wild and overgrown,
kept her a secret - 
never to be found.

poem #30

June 6, 2021

bookstore

i look forward to that day
when i bump into you
in a coffee shop or bookstore
and not absorb a drop
of that tiresome anxiety.
the ongoing lament;
another existential crisis.
when the words you say
sound like nails down
a schoolroom chalkboard
and not a chorus of angels singing.
the numerous meals i cooked
were not enough to make me
the centre of your universe.
instead i was a planet
in a vast solar system
that revolved around you.
even as my life shattered,
i finally felt i was coming up for air.