Melancholia

melancholia broke down the door again

lit my cigarette

and sat me at the table

it started flattering me again

it's warm and not so lonesome after all

when she left

I got up cleansed

after such familiar encounter 

the next day melancholia came through the door

takes off its shoes 

pulls out a chair

and sits with us at the table

smoking my cigarettes

drinking my wine

and beer

then listen to me whine about this

and that

about unpublished work

and the empty bed

and the pile of clothes and chores left untouched 

just like so

many other times