heavy, brooding, lingering. It stays on you. 

You try —every time— to ward it off but it persists.

They can tell that you are full of it; full of shit.

An empty vessel loaded with many sorrows. 

Empty? surely not.

In your mind’s eye you see a vision of the life you desire, but for the billowing smoke.

A wisp of grey, curling through.

Cover your nose, your mouth, your eyes, 

Do not inhale.

It will cling and it will stain.

We often speak of joy, but we will also

Tell them of pain.

Call it by its name

Don’t be afraid to be weak; a loser.

Draw in the melancholy and

embrace it.

Let it follow, persistent and unyielding,

reminding you of all that is lost.

There is no shame, there is no hiding.

It’s in your clothes, in your sheets and in your soul.

No scents can mask the smell that seep into your thoughts

No windows big enough to let in air.