Sadness lines these walls
the way that dust
lines the corners
of books you bought
when you had a
hunger for words,

now, the act of reading
them, smooth
as their covers,
effortlessly slipping
through your mind,

I am not my sadness,
I say, over and over
like a heartbeat,
a belief so vital
to my life as
the clenching of
that *****

and yet
and yet

I am sad