Five senses
Sadness tastes like ramen and some not so good Chinese food
Sadness smells like A vibrant must from my unwashed body mixed with dirty clothes and my unkempt room
Sadness sounds like my voice in a silent four-square room echoing back to itself the things I’ve already repeated many times before
Sadness feels like a hole I can’t fill, thoughts I can’t form, people I can’t see and people I see too much of,
Sadness looks like the walls of my room bare but somewhat covered in pictures I no longer relate to, filled with people who don’t relate to me, myself in a mirror unable to love me,
Sadness to me is silent, something I didn’t see coming, something I didn’t recognize when it arrived, I gave it pronouns because we became friends
She became my partner, a trusted confidant, a real good house guest, she never overstayed her welcome, knew just when to leave, she left me plenty of food I knew I wasn’t going to eat...except the ramen, I always ate the ramen.
hot sauce made the ramen better, just like deodorant took the must away, and Netflix filled the room with more noise than just my thoughts, I put those photos in an album so I could keep them but not look at them, and I did the same with those people and she became my room and she became my safety. And my smile hid her and you became my friend unaware of the friend I already had.
Sadness smells like A vibrant must from my unwashed body mixed with dirty clothes and my unkempt room
Sadness sounds like my voice in a silent four-square room echoing back to itself the things I’ve already repeated many times before
Sadness feels like a hole I can’t fill, thoughts I can’t form, people I can’t see and people I see too much of,
Sadness looks like the walls of my room bare but somewhat covered in pictures I no longer relate to, filled with people who don’t relate to me, myself in a mirror unable to love me,
Sadness to me is silent, something I didn’t see coming, something I didn’t recognize when it arrived, I gave it pronouns because we became friends
She became my partner, a trusted confidant, a real good house guest, she never overstayed her welcome, knew just when to leave, she left me plenty of food I knew I wasn’t going to eat...except the ramen, I always ate the ramen.
hot sauce made the ramen better, just like deodorant took the must away, and Netflix filled the room with more noise than just my thoughts, I put those photos in an album so I could keep them but not look at them, and I did the same with those people and she became my room and she became my safety. And my smile hid her and you became my friend unaware of the friend I already had.
