Wednesday, 12 March 2014


Dire melancholia
Had me in its grip.

I promise you,
I swear it did!
I was moaning,
And sighing ,
And crying
Fit to keep
An ocean filled…

My nose was running,
My sorrow was deep,
My heart was shattered
And I could hardly sleep
For all that tossing
And all that turning?

It was just perfect.
I tell you, it was perfect.
As perfect a bout
Of unrequited love
With associated melancholia
As you could wish to see.

And then I caught a glimpse
Of myself in a mirror:
The tousled mane – PERFECT
The huge-eyed pain – AMAZING
The tremulous mouth – DIVINE

I looked that Drama
Straight in the eye
And sighed…
And that was when
Perfection died.

I should have cried
One perfect tear;
Allowed it to slide
Down my interestingly
Pale cheek?

Well I didn’t.
I’m so ever so sorry,
But I started to giggle.
Which goes to show
I’m either a heartless brat,
Or suffer from a lamentable
Shallowness of affect.

Manuela Cardiga

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