Melancholy Garden.

 I felt awake. 

Floating above the reality of chaos, and burning roses… the crumbling romance of simply existing. It was somehow beauty and tragedy, dancing together in the palm of my hand. 

Awake.

Eyes open, heart bruised but not broken. A momentary trip away from my Melancholy Garden, where I’d often stroll through the dull avenues of Despondency. Away from it, my heart would waltz in the fresh air of blue skies as if I’d never truly been awake before. Even the darkness felt alive as the stars gossiped with me over steaming beverages and the secrecy of the wind. 

Everything… Everything was awake, not solely me.

Why must it never stay?

Perhaps if I could reach up and steal the cerulean sky, I could keep it in my pocket, and then maybe it wouldn’t feel so painful to go back. If I borrow the stars and exchange them with the smoke, they could keep me company until I return… 

Sadly, we must always part ways, and I must wait until one of us finds the other again... Regardless of how much I wish I could, I cannot pause time; I can only seem to dread the lengths in between. Continuing with the hope that the last time will not remain the last… and that our goodbyes aren’t taking away the breath of the future.

…It’s bittersweet to care so much, and to feel it all so intensely. Even when I romanticize the dull, it is not simply color that blooms. No, the melancholy spreads until it covers everything in sight. A terrible garden for the souls who feel slightly more than just everything… That is where you will find me.

Until next time, my love.