Catching Sadness

Today, I caught a sadness.

It started by waking in a room with no sun,

no arms around my waist, whispered promises in my ear.

It spiraled up my legs as I walked out the door

forgetting my morning coffee and to walk the dog.

I tried shaking it out of my foot, but it got caught

when I tripped and no one was there to catch me.

It didn't stop tugging at me until I accepted it –

wore it like a blanket - keeping me warm while I never noticed.

I found out later that someone had loaned me their melancholy;

it was my neighbor's crashed car still parked in their driveway,

shriveled like a mistake on paper and steaming of lost money.

It was the grumpy teenager behind me at the grocery store

who rolled her eyes while I nervously dug for my coupons.

It was even the dog I had - not the one I forgot to walk - but

the one with floppy white ears that ran away when I was six.

It was not the five o' clock scruff, scrip scrape scraping

against my check, the deep whiff of artificial man I inhaled

when I stepped in for a kiss to a body that was no longer there. 


The type of sad I caught was dangerous, maybe worth a hospital visit.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741