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Peaceful Melancholia
The soft familiar thrum of peaceful melancholia
In the cold night of wandering brick alleys
And watching the pleasures of passersby.
In this city lined with soft yellow light
And where time is counted to the close of dusk
You can always find another's sight to behold.
You may only exist for a fraction of a second
In polite smiles to the people you cross.
What a wonder it is to be gently reminded
That you do still own the space you traipse.
For being alone never feels as strong
As being alone in a crowded world;
As being trapped in an unlocked cell.
