Sorrow Teeth

Long toothed sorrow doesn’t want to be held...

Photo by Levin Anton on Unsplash

read or listen:

Some days my sorrow has teeth,
sloughing off silken skin
and tender cello songs,
opening its maw.

Sharp toothed sorrow chases me
until I sit,
resting uncomfortably
beside it.

Long toothed sorrow doesn’t want to be held
or even looked at,
so I listen to its worried panting,
trying to stop fear
from taking my own breath.

We rock together,
cycling through desperation,
loneliness,
loss,
and more fear.

Forgetting why it came here
sorrow leans into me,
drowsy,
breath slowing
and softening.

My sorrow keeps its teeth,
we rest together.