Wet.

My sadness is like this damp cloth inside my rib cage that I can only remove if I claw my chest open.

I don't understand it. It's slimy and changes its shape as I walk and run.

Sometimes I don't feel its cold, damp wetness that much. And sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in it. It's like being cursed to wear perenially wet socks that you can never remove.

I can only imagine what warmth would feel like...the thought of my heart finally heating up in that glow is so delicious, it curls my toes automatically.

Or Maybe that dampness would start to rot my insides, consume me like quicksand...and when that moment comes I just hope my memory is kind enough to resign from service;)