One Poem Only is a daily poetry podcast offering a quiet moment with a single poem—read aloud, without analysis or noise.

Melancholy Ink

Dita Indradi

Sadness learned my name

before I learned how to answer.

It waits

behind my teeth

when I say I’m fine.

I used to shake

the moment I knew.

Hands too loud.

Breath missing.

My heart running

like it heard something

I couldn’t.

Heat rushing

through narrow places,

every nerve lit up

looking for an exit.

Now, when the same knowing comes,

my body does something else.

It goes quiet.

No shaking.

No warning.

Just the sudden absence

of feeling.

Like someone

stepped out of the room

and left the lights on.

I bleed without sound

and call it ink.

Silence presses its thumb

into my chest,

not to hurt me—

just checking

if I’m still here.

Some poems begin as tears

I don’t feel

until much later.

Others are the way

I leave the moment

without moving.

I write from places

that never healed right,

only learned

how to disappear.

Melancholy isn’t how I feel.

It’s how my hand moves

when I stay.

I mourn

what almost worked,

what hurt enough

to teach my body

how to leave.

I don’t write to be heard.

I write

so the sadness knows

someone stayed

when I couldn’t.

More from Dita Indradi ↓

• @uninspiringalien on Instagram
• @uninspiringalien on Medium

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