melancholy

A Poem About Letting The Right Lover In

Photography by  Elisa Scascitelli

Photography by Elisa Scascitelli

I think a lot about how talking to you feels like

my skin looking like trees in January,

how my atoms each individually feel like the sunrise

opening up like paint cans of colors,

your words paint a galaxy on top of me.

it’s 1:30 at night and I am thinking about humanity

I think about boys sitting next to me calling me

baby.

come here,

sweetie

let me touch your body like it’s not a home to an entire world,

it’s okay,

because I know that we are better than the nights we drown inside of bottles,

better than nights we sleep with our demons,

it’s okay because heaven and hell are real

and they’re here.

bleed yourself clean, kids are killing

themselves because they can’t stand

to live inside of their minds

tragedy to humanity,

I love you

if I could replace the chemicals in your brain

with flowers and something sweet, I would, believe me

and believe me,

this world could not spin without empathy.

it’s 1:31 at night and I am thinking about humanity

individually carrying our own personal tragedies

with monsters labeled “apathy” and “anxiety.”

we were never meant to be this numb,

never meant to be made of stone.

I think about how he said something like

I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

You don’t know what to do with your life?

Yeah, like, I don’t know what makes me happy

and I think about that time we sat in your car

as rain drops danced down the windows and our faces were warm

and your happiness was so thick I think I could taste it.

I think a lot about how love is happiness and more words and feelings on fire.

it’s okay to feel, it’s okay to feel,

it’s okay to feel.

even the clouds cry, even dirt can dry

but if sunsets ever go grey, if shades of colors start to fade

let rain drops kiss you,

run through falling leaves,

look inside and feel your heart beating,

let me kiss you, gently

I will pick a flower for you and tell you

to please stare at it like it’s your own reflection.

You make my heart feel like it is jumping off of the top of a mountain

when you say things that sound like peeling skin back and bleeding,

that sounds a lot like dusty records that skips a lot,

sounds a lot like black holes and nursing homes.

it’s 1:32 and mostly, I am thinking about the tenderness of the sky,

how our atoms came from the sky,

please,

remember you came from the sky.

I am thinking about that night where the coffee was thick

and the air felt like inspiration and warm rain.

I could tell your brain was busier than your pen,

and when you rushed outside to look at the rain

you told me your name was

Tommy.

I asked,

hey are you okay?

And you thanked me, shook my hand, and we drifted away,

but I will never forget

our humanity.

Submitted to ArtParasites by Abbie Young