Happy Sunday Blues: A Poem About Missing Sadness

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Sadness.
I miss it.
I get too drunk on my happy tears.
But life has been too nice.
Holding me tight.
Wrapping a blanket over my shoulders.
But I miss it.
Crying into my pillow all night.
Feeling rage fill my fists, but only bring water to my eyes.
Feeling empty inside
Cutting off all ties
Then, forgetting them by sunrise
These tears don’t sting like they used to.
They don’t bite my heart as it beats slower.
I remember those lies
When I said I was alright.
But I wasn’t.
Not then, not now.
I wonder if it’s true, that without sadness, life is a hollow cycle of too good to be true.
I wish that I could regain my Sunday blues.
Oh yes, I wish I could regain my Sunday blues.
I wish them. I miss them. I really do.

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