My beloved melancholy

The melodies of life can turn to foggy gloom.
Not implying that I feel lost and doomed,
but just swimming in slow subtle chords
mellow arpeggios, sighs and words.

My beloved melancholy stares at my expressionless face
making sure that my feelings are always in their place.
Sensibility based on mellow and graceful sorrow
and the yearning for the past on a dim lit tomorrow.

My beloved melancholy smiles at me like a lover
after a cleverly placed kiss underneath the covers.
In some twisted way she gives me life,
soothes me and protects me from any strife.

My beloved melancholy sweetly whispers,
a sweet voice that is balm to my sores.
She tells me that I should just breathe
reminisce, feel it through my pores.

So with a couple notes end this I must
as my muse bleeds into a pale poetic tragic ending,
my verses turn to ashes and my rhymes into dust
like a soft ballad of plain old pretending.