a melancholy journal.

to enjoy each other's company again, like we used to.

but something's different. he lingers in the back of my mind.

and now, as i look at you,

but im here.

and instead of feeling scared, of grasping every moment and missing the comfort of the seemingly infinite routine we've all been reared to accept,

i feel it coming. the change in the tide. it slithers up around my ribs and tugs me gently out to sea.

there's a hole in my head

like you plucked out the cork

and released all the dread

and as every night comes

and i crawl into bed

my brain trickles out

ive learned to bury cherished time,

to stop the chance that i unwind,

as gardens bait romantic thought,

and make me miss our days in court.

but you won't hear that, not from me,

i'll lie and rot in misery,

because my dear, you curse me still,

Because thou hast the power and own’st the grace

To look through and behind this mask of me

(Against which years have beat thus blanchingly

With their rains), and behold my soul’s true face,

- Elizabeth Barrett Browning

it was cold, and grey and the rain touched all.

we were in the park, on a swinging seat, sitting back to back.

we were alone with the world.

that it degrades any authenticity in my human experience and makes me numb to all of lifes exciting moments,