The Texture of Sadness

I disappointed myself yesterday and somehow it led to a flood of “dark” poems.

I find it less distressing to write in verse than in long form.



The texture of sadness is …

Never ending bone deep weariness

The cloying scent of despair

The moisture grooved cheeks

Depositories of endless tears


Sadness grows from many origins

They blend and blur together over time

The grief of lost family and friends

The sorrow of opportunity buried

Deep beneath the path not taken


The depression of loneliness and despair

Burrowing deep under the skin, smothering

So despairing, alone, we seek any escape

Not asking for help or admitting to the need

We are drowning in our own solitude


We display the stoic, frozen facial expression

Faking the aesthetic of happy contentment

Revealed false in the downcast eyes, the hidden truth

Looking back, the future shrouded, the now a quagmire

The struggle to engage, to even breathe, let alone be happy


The wistful looks to the past, mourning what passed

The maudlin thoughts, bleakly stuck in one place

The bitter tears bringing the endless headache

The abyss of sleep, with false promise of dreams

The cold harsh reality, rinse and repeat the pain


The texture of sadness, encompassing current reality

Devoid of ‘real’ happiness, the apparent norm for others

The absence of simple pleasure, no automatic smile

Heading straight to the negative, never believing the potential

Surrendering to the reality of now, seeing no tomorrow


The illusion that tomorrow will be a better day

That no tears will fall, unless of sheer joy

Gaining the freedom to smile and to laugh

Trusting that they are not fleeting, superficial

Capable of feeling more than the texture of sadness

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