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Grief

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Grief anesthetizes me.

Grief, sorrow and melancholy leave residues;

places to dwell in, melancholy slicks the world in gray haze,

sorrow murmurs to your soul, grief leaves scars. 

 

Melancholy tells stories, tells heartbreakingly beautiful stories.

 

It is in the searching for a solution that keeps one coming back for more.

 

Over the years, I questioned, researched and sought psychological perspective regarding my propensity towards melancholia and the ceaseless search to reconcile such feelings.

 

It’s a place where I am

 

comfortably numb. 

 

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Melancholia

 

has always separated me from the others. 

 

Perhaps, self-inflicted; 

I perceive myself as different from the beginning of my beginning

 

I assume others perceive me in this way too. 

 

When grief and longing shadow you everywhere you go,

it’s hard to let go of them and

 

be a kid.

 

I mourn 

 

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because that's the fastest route to my mother.

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To mourn my mother 

enables me

to keep

her present.

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