Melancholy (a.k.a. my resting state)

A poem

Photo credit — melancholy roadtrip by Cristina Archer

Melancholy drifts in gentle waves — not a storm, but a mist upon the fields at dawn. It hums beneath the ribcage, a slow and wistful tune, woven from the threads of memories almost forgotten. There’s sweetness in the ache, a hush that settles like soft rain on windowpanes, inviting reflection. It is the ache of missed laughter, the sigh of old songs, the warmth left in a jumper worn by someone loved. Here, sadness is not unwelcome — it sits beside you with a quiet grace, reminding you of all you’ve cherished, all you’ve lost, and the beauty still found in longing.

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Source of inspiration: This piece explores that feeling that isn’t sorrow — not really — but those moments a little too gone.