blue moon

As I sit under this blue, bright, supermoon, melancholy overwhelms. It encircles me like the mother of night, caring yet not letting me breathe, keeping me bundled in her dark shadows, unable to be free. I can’t breathe, please free me, I keep falling under her dark spell, unaware anymore, of what is reality and what is not. The lines are blurred, and all of a sudden I’m spiraling, but just before I tumble, I manage my way out. The light, ironically, of the moon, frees me, but only so much that I don’t go under.

Melancholy — a deep regret, sadness, inability to express in English. It’s depth. A depth that only…