Wait, you don’t have to go right now.
I know there is no bliss between us,
But we aren’t all that miserable, either.
You may as well rest here awhile.
These others, the ones that bring with them
Happiness, sadness, anger, and pride,
They come and they go as they please.
I issue commands, but they will not listen.
Forgive me, I don’t remember what to call you.
Melancholia? You recoil at its implications.
Pensivity? No, the name is too bright for you.
Nay, I cannot recall, though we know each other well.
You are vacuous, the void, a hollow, blank.
I can see you reflected in my eyes,
Your fingers gently cradle my heart,
Your silence reverberates through my mind.
But stay, for a trusty shield you’ve been to me
Against all that is extraneous to myself–
What might wound and pierce the heart.
Thou, imperfect temperament, but my dear friend.