A Toast To Sad

July 1, 2015

I’m swallowing my sadness and it feels like I’m swallowing you.

Heavy and cold it slips down my throat, and for some reason I can’t. Stop. Drinking.

Is it nourishing, this lump?

Is it weighty because it’s full of desire and unsaid saids?

Is it my path-to-salvation-my-guiding-light-my-angel-teaching-me-lessons?

Or is it just Sad?


Or is it nothing that I have made into something?

I think I’ll go with that.

I think I’ll go with happy.

I think I’m writing the Gospels of myself.




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