My Melancholy Is Your Melancholy

and so at the end
we rediscover that my
melancholy
is your melancholy too

we cannot describe
how deep the roots are
and how rotten
the trees

we were counting the
leaves falling
we want to measure
the length and weight
of the heaps

i do not bother myself
now
we have become so
different
like crisscrossing
lines
with endpoints
crazy somewhere
not wanting any
meeting

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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