There's a certain kind of sadness


There’s a certain kind of sadness,


Sadness that floats in the absence of matter


The distance between your last layer of skin to mine


Screams desperately to conflate and stop time.


The space between the raptures marks the essence


of what had caused the blocking of our breath


dragging us to perilously experience it again


(although the absence will repeatedly emerge)


That certain kind of sadness,


The sadness sailing within meager distance


Between one enactment and the other


That certain kind of sadness


Longing our transient felicity


Is as inevitable as the depth in which your voice sounds


And the satisfaction of our feet in the same ground.


Yet I look back and grasp that sadness is too motley to define


This certain kind of sadness does not endure through a pure absence of our ease


But in thought that in an instant, despite how endless it feels


there’s a certain kind of sadness that always will appear.


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