I lay snuggled deep,
With hot chocolate under the window sill
Cigarettes stubbed out in the ashtray –
An unfinished pack – waiting

Cheese turned soot black,
Much like a chimney

Much like a smoke machine,
Letting out clouds
It’d seem I lived among the clouds
Smokey –Ha!

As I lay entwined under my sheets,
Familiar things – crawled back

Melancholy it was called,
It came over just the other day –
And even though I hate it,
I’ve come to embrace

Its warmth –
Covers me, and my sadness

I’m too tired to kill myself,
Too tired to save myself either
Tired to anything –
But drown in misery

Melancholy is beautiful,
With my unfinished smokes
And the half full cup of hot chocolate –
I sat her making out with this thing called melancholy