by Johannes Plenio via Unsplash

Spontaneous prose by Ada J. Raven

Leaving home used to be exciting because I knew I would always return.

Today I know I’m not. When I leave it’ll be for good.

To make a new home, a new place to feel and be and create contentedness.

Alas, with the excitement comes a foreboding melancholy I can’t ignore.

It creeps upon me at night and taints my heart with blue sadness

freezing and consuming until the good is gone.

The mornings are warm again and I think I’m ready, but at night it creeps coldly as always and fills me with doubt.



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