My Dear Melancholy

In the game of love, a symphony plays,

A waltz of senses in so many ways.

We "see" with more than just our eyes,

Our bodies alive with a pulse that flies.

A break, a delicate balance to keep,

A taste of longing that stirs so deep.

The scent of love, a memory to savour,

A hint of passion, a touch of favour.

Situationships, an enigma so complex,

A texture undefined, a riddle to perplex.

A touch of respect, so hard to find,

Emotions tangled, a knot that's blind.

Caught in feelings, a spell we weave,

A taste so sweet, we just can't leave.

Insecurity's shadow, a scent of fear,

A touch of vulnerability, so very clear.

Society's indoctrination, a burden we bear,

A sound of shame, a weight we wear.

A game of romantic chess with rules so lame,

A sight of conformity, a vision so tame.

In the age of social media, the game has changed,

A sensual overload, our senses deranged.

Shoe shopping barefooted, a touch of madness,

Lies we tell, with senses of sadness.

Fidelity's illusion, a taste of bitterness,

A touch of variety, a sound of restlessness.

Women too, caught in this deceitful dance,

A touch of secrecy, a scent of romance.

Fairytale relationships, a vision so grand,

A touch of illusion, with senses so bland.

Polyamory, a path we can pursue,

A sensual complexity, a feeling so new.

My dear Melancholy, a scent of sorrow,

A touch of inspiration, a promise for tomorrow.

Love, lust, and relationships, a symphony to behold,

Senses awakened, emotions so bold.