Melancholy Baby Poem by Bryan Riley

I've no need to write it down.
no record of our thoughts or deeds;
no need to speak, to share my
thoughts, feelings, perceptions

Summer's almost here, on the other side of
this lingering winter we thought would
hold us into her forever; the returning of
the cold that almost killed the flowers, and
spring ought to be a
shorter season than usual.

No color or warmth to hold you near.
Feeling that life is pouring down on me,
filling me up and drowning my sensibility.

I can't breathe- I don't want to think,
and I CERTAINLY don't want to
talk about it.

This is the last notebook
my mother gave me.

Sleep- it's both too early and too late.
The sun invades every corner of
my dwelling- sleep just won't come, not now.

My soul is weary. I breathe in the silence,
then breathe out more of the same.
Nothing exists now except the warmth of
the sunlight caressing my face, the
strains of 'Melancholy Baby' repeating
softly inside my head