THE MASTER OF MELANCHOLY

THE MASTER OF MELANCHOLY

Could I burn my soul and write you another poetry

Of how often you didn't understood me? 

Sleeping back in the silver sheets, when I was crying to sleep, apparently

Dying to sleep, but I couldn't, because of your oblivion, trust me. 

So I wrote another poem, about you made me feel that very day, instantly, 

And I could stop writing about you the very whole night, listen to me, 

And then i read all of my poems, backwards, impatiently,

But I couldn't read, my own disparity. 

Why I am so poised by the idea of the poisen, that you keep feeding me? 

What you did to my soul , abandoning me so splendidly, 

Why I have to be so ill, after loving you so immensely, 

So I got to beat me up to death, under the covers of my bed, madly.

I always end up grieving about how we could be , 

But we could never be normal , I digested this lately

As we are made to burn down when we're born in our own tragedy , 

I am to attached to begging to act the right way , so non - Womanly .

Can you please kill me, as  you gave me your identity? 

Can you please not love me, as I want to leave? 

Can you please abandon my memories? 

Can you Holocaust me somewhere in your history?

Why do you have to be absent to abandon this cascade, 

that culminated the cause of my tainted taste, 

Like I am really sad about us? 

But the truth is that I am really mad about love.

Verses after verses, sonnets after sonnets, POETRIES after POETRIES 

As I go on writing another volume of sickened cinematic ANTHOLOGIES, 

And I know you don't enjoy reading any of them, basically 

But what other alternative is left within me?

The sad in me still sickens me, so I order another coffee, 

The grieving never ends and the plot changes with the same cause , 

My heart is always heavy, and my mind is always singing melancholy, 

Pages after pages, pens after pens, fights after fights , how could I still wish to marry you one day .

Am I mad or sad Or bad at this, really? 

Do you love to secure my solemn apologies, 

In the grave that I built  you back in the days of when I had no enemy, 

But could I borrow that from you, for a time being, 

So I could bury myself there, eventually?

I never felt so securely, insane with someone, except with you,

As my man is made of no before hand experience in relationships,

So I give him space and time to comprehend my calamity,

But he fails at it always, record Breakingly

Leeza ~