Are you sad too?
You will either respond with a yes or a no.
Tell a lie.
And all you'll feel is guilt.
Just the right amount of guilt in the side,
As it flows through your system from denying reality too much.
Just the right amount of guilt now in the other,
From exposing your soul to this one strange, unidentified girl.
Also know how pain would gnaw at your heart.
It has no defined form,
But every touch it passes leaves a dark recollection.
Regret would gladly visit you every night,
While endless torture follows all throughout the day;
oh, melancholy, sweet melancholy, what a hefty price to pay.
Tell the truth.
And let me pick up those broken pieces with you.
I'll offer no words, and you wouldn't have too either.
We'll both tread in silence
As we sit along the sands facing the wide ocean.
We'll realize how teeny tiny bit of creatures we are,
Worrying what we cannot hold over this vast, vast world.
And maybe, we'll burst into gradual fits of laughter,
As our bodies exhale the foul air
Draining away the sadness that once lived.
Exhibit #5: What if I stopped asking the default "how are you?" and instead asked "are you sad too?"
YOU ARE READING
a collection of odd stories in jane doe's head
PoetryWhat of life? What of death? Here we have an unnamed character swallowing different kinds of worlds through her imagination. One question rises in her head, then another. It's quite a tale, isn't it? None like no other.
