melancholia

melancholia is tiring.

headaches and complaints have taken

up the hours in days now.

ibuprofen and vitamin d in the morning

followed by black coffee (one level teaspoon

of sugar) and weetabix (microwaved).

mist floods the street,

leaving only tiled roofs visible

as the next email

makes you think of

taking that bottle of Smirnoff

and a pack of Sovereign Blue up the field.

with your eyes closed, it might just trick you into thinking

your back with friends at 2 AM.

two days out of thirty one spent

with the one you want to marry.

clasped hands and joint lips,

now left behind as you button that

shirt you wore out to dinner up.

to the top, though they loved how you

looked with the second button undone.

you did too. free.

you spend more days behind a desk

now. your heart aches for more time.

it's 8PM and the drive home

is the same.

at the point where you pass under

the road above, you floor it.

fifty to eighty to one hundred.

for two seconds, maybe more,

you close your eyes.

and you hate yourself for it.

if only priority could be on

life and love.

instead the focus has fixed on

something so terribly, terribly wrong.