I slept with Melancholy
Even though I saw Hope lingering
like the last shade of orange in the dusky sky.
Melancholy, who sometimes goes by Darkness, wasn't really an old friend.
We just ran in the same circles.
She came to me that night,
With a mischievous grin like an alley cat
who's about to catch her dinner as she glowed under the moonlight.
I blushed as she laid me down,
Bare and open in front of her.
Like the dewy tulip that vibrantly blushed as it bloomed
Before shriveling up and breaking apart in the cold winter.
In the morning, I woke up with a dull pain that seeped across my back,
eliciting a soft groan from me as I stood up.
Melancholy had left me with nothing
But a pile of clothes left on the floor.
And as I waited to hear my phone's familiar ping,
it seemed like Hope was gone too.