wind-chime melancholy

by on July 11, 2019 :: 0 comments

sadness births itself into a chorus
that trickles its way onto my tongue:
one strong thought at first
that dissipates
into a cacophony of
insults to myself
for taking up space.

i’m sorry // i can’t make it.
i’m sorry // that i’m here.

i’m sorry i can’t sing for you my sadness
with a tune that makes sense to us both.
i disappear
like a metal melody broken on air,

clanging itself
into nothingness.

editors note:

Solitude, wind-soughed to settle on tongue, tingle in ear; alone to moan. – mh clay

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