#melancholy verse

[shisasan]

9 June 1916, Aleksandr Blok (1880-1921), Selected Poems

[anti-the-poet]

If I’m lucky, I’ll have my twenties in my thirties, And my thirties in my forties. I'll have something left for death, Before I kick the bucket, Just a little too early.

Part 3/8 - 'The Past: Still Present' Vol. III - Antigonie | Anti the Poet

[thenocturnearchive]

My sorrow, when she’s here with me,      Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree;      She walks the sodden pasture lane. Her pleasure will not let me stay.      She talks and I am fain to list: She’s glad the birds are gone away, She’s glad her simple worsted grey      Is silver now with clinging mist. The desolate, deserted trees,      The faded earth, the heavy sky, The beauties she so truly sees, She thinks I have no eye for these,      And vexes me for reason why. Not yesterday I learned to know      The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow, But it were vain to tell her so,      And they are better for her praise. - My November Guest, Robert Frost

[anti-the-poet]

Pages of my book have been ripped from its spine. I spend my days, Locked away, With nothing but cold coffee by my side. The ache inside is relentless, Just like the pouring rain outside. My skin’s turning grey— There’s no warmth left in my brown eyes.

Part 1/5 - 'The Past: Still Present' Vol. III - Antigonie | Anti the Poet

[anti-the-poet]

If I had the words to define this feeling, Trust me— You would hear them. I know it only ever seems like I’m either whispering or screaming, But thoughts like mine have never been fleeting. They keep me up at night, And there’s no relief in no sleeping, No mercy in overthinking— No euphoria in excessive drinking— And as ever, I am sinking.

Part 2/2 - 'The Past: Still Present' Vol. III - Antigonie | Anti the Poet

[anti-the-poet]

That’s how you wanted me. That’s how you had me. That’s how you broke me. That’s how you haunt me now.

Part 5/5 - 'The Past: Still Present' Vol. III - Antigonie | Anti the Poet

[anti-the-poet]

So many unanswered questions, So much doubt— My head’s spinning. Still unable to define, Where your truth met your lie, And I’m, Breaking.

Part 2/5 - 'The Past: Still Present' Vol. III - Antigonie | Anti the Poet

[anti-the-poet]

But who’ll be at my funeral? I know I’ll be there, In leather and lace. Who’ll gather my ashes, And in death, Keep me safe?

Part 5/8 - 'The Past: Still Present' Vol. III - Antigonie | Anti the Poet