Melancholy is the ache in my chest when I watch you sleep.
It is the tingling in my fingertips when a strand of hair falls across your face.
It is the way I sit a little straighter at the mention of your name.
It is the habit of walking past your room when I come home.
It is the skip in my heart when I don’t find you there.
It is the memories that play in my mind when I look up to the sky.
It is the unfamiliar sound of my voice speaking about you in past tense.
It is the tears that fall down the sides of my face as I lie in bed at night.
It is the knowledge that our paths may never cross again.
Melancholy is no longer a word,
It is me when I think of you.