A memory,
Soft and gentle and light
As air, clouds, spring breeze, and a butterfly.
Yet resonate, deep and vibrating
Like a thunderclap’s kiss.
Humming low and cavernously.
Empty echoes of a distant song,
So sad and happy,
Like teardrops on a fogged windowpane.
A lip-touch from a ghost.
The moon shines over head
Yellow and alone,
As I remember it…
The thing, the picture.
That makes my heart beat in yearning.
Melancholy is the word that fills me now.
Overflowing, pouring freely out.
A waterfall over a cliff,
Except there is nowhere for it to go,
Except back inside of me.
My throat closes up until I feel like I might gag
From the silent, so deeply silent, feeling of abandonment,
The cool night air has left in its wake.
A beach, lost in darkness, grey sand and black waters.
A meadow of flowers in the winter, long wilted and passed away.
A bonfire fading out, no one sitting around it laughing with red faces and the smell of smoke lingering,
Leaving only fading embers that glow a red-orange.
All beautiful, yet all inexplicably sad.
This thing, this memory,
That leaves me damp and cold and hot and wanting.
That makes me tired but impatient.
That wants me to be happy.