On a quiet afternoon,
Sometimes on a Tuesday or Wednesday
But Mostly on a Saturday
An unknown emotion stirs in me.
Deep where I cannot
Put my finger on it.
It stirs like sugar in coffee
But soon whirlpools.
Is it pain or sorrow?
Can it be anguish?
Am I suffering with nostalgia of the unknown?
Or has melancholy found me?
Who or what am I missing?
What creates this void?
Dull air of malaise gnaws at my peace
First softly, then in rushing waves.
I long for home while sitting in one.
Faintly, Disquiet tiptoes in the room
Stings, pins, nips at my soul.
I yearn for what is not present,
I miss what never was,
I desire what I do not know.
Ache turns into agony,
Creating a chasm,
As if my own Mariana Trench,
In the middle of nowhere.
I used the picture for Toska from Pinterest.