here is a poem to commemorate my eternal sadness

recently ive been feeling an odd bundle of things.

ive also been conflicted as to whether or not i should handle these feelings gracefully or destructively, if at all.

i catch myself feeling angry – and then scolding myself: no you must be strong.

so i hide behind a crippling sense of humour, sarcasm, and two thick lines of eyeliner painted across the brim of my lids,

letting my rotten feelings muster inside me, aging like fine wine, until someone pops the cork open

and judges for themselves: has this wine been aging since 2012 or 2013?

hard to say.

has an ashy, burnt taste. forest fires that year?

possibly.

i don’t quite like the taste of this – have you any other selections?

and then i am bottled up, or poured down the drain.


Featured Image: Wine exiting a blue bottle by Taro Taylor is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

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Self-proclaimed jack-of-all-trades. Intersectional feminist. Educator/linguist in training. Fashionista, food-lover, and fairly poor hand-eye coordination.

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