b l a c k c l o u d

when the sadness comes in
like a winter storm in june
and just sits there on your chest
until it tears apart the mood
and your thoughts cloud into poetry 
that just will not stop
and every emotion comes
without explanation
making you impossible to spot
(“what’s wrong?” gets asked a lot)
but there is no response
and it feels manipulative
but the truth is: there just is no response
the black cloud will sit there
until it’s through being black
and then just as suddenly as it came
it will go clear away
and it will not care what bits of earth
it has sucked up into its atmosphere
or what it’s left you bare of
no, it does not care
it steals your words and makes you
think you are just better off
bloodied, dirty and alone
“don’t get attached to anyone,” it says
all is temporary, death looms
pain comes, fear your perceived failures
as they are the only assured things in life
tremble and give up…
when the sadness comes in
like a winter storm in june
unexpected, uninvited, utterly encompassing
in its force
just take up shelter in the most stable part
of the room
and when “what’s wrong” is asked just
play along and say
the morgue has stole your groom