she sometimes finds
it difficult to try and
navigate the currents
of my melancholy
matter of factness
as every word i manage
to flatly mutter
gets caught like dust
in the back of my throat
i am a series of
catastrophic misunderstandings
made all the more
unmanageable through my
tangle of unruly threads
scattered about this
paper thin sense of self
an origami dodo waddling
stupidly from deep depression
to fatalistic malaise
sent afloat by surly winds
to swirl aimless over
the yawning abyss of
my self perceived fallacies
fluttering ever farther
from the reminiscence of light
she takes the time
to recognize the timbre
of my melancholy
matter of factness
and in that simple fact
rests a special magic
that somehow pulls
all of my disparate threads
back together again
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
❤️
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“she takes the time
to recognize the timbre
of my melancholy
matter of factness” ❤️
Love all of this…
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i don’t realize how i get when i am sick or depressed, or as if this week, both at once. i felt terrible when i understood but amazed someone took the time to see through it and understand me better than i do myself. poetry happens every single day if we are willing to see it.
thank you for your kind words.
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So much truth, Mike. I feel that way often with my husband. “understand me better than i do myself” You are welcome. ☺️
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