Ever wondered what it would feel like,
to voice our affect over
A mug of coffee:
You and I and all the others.
To ignore the rule that sadness,
should be dwelt with in silence;
Have a laugh over our pain which
Has a name.
Ever considered the possibility:
That our silence is a fuel which brews
It, and speaking- the water which can
Quell it. If only for a bit:
This pain which has a name.
I don’t know about you, but
My coffee is brewing,
The sun is set to rise,
My mood has no compass yet.
What you say?
Let’s talk about it?
This thing which turns us
Into shadows of our former