Melancholy Monotony

There's something about children, the way their innocence hovers over them like a tangible thing. People see them, remember what it was like, and they place a hand over their mouths (trying to touch something that no longer is, left defiled) as they sigh.

That same thing, whatever it is, that makes an adult look at a child with longing in their eyes, the same look is directed at the two people who are locked in a bond of love. The same sigh, the same wistful look, the same hand over the mouth as they remember, or don't, how it was for them.

The movies, art, music, it's all the same. Giving us a glance into something we once had, or always wanted but never quite reached. A sense of freedom, or maybe the knowledge that someone is thinking about you. The feeling one gets when the world is turning and they're a part of it. The thoughts that flood into our consciousness, fill us to overflowing, cover us completely. They make us pause, stop and think as we cover our mouths and sigh.

Knowing that for us, it will never be. A melancholy happiness that leaves us with an empty mug on a rainy day.