By Madeline Harding
Glut your sorrow.
Look on my face with those doleful eyes
Only I have seen.
This is the ultimate intimacy;
It seems as though your sadness was made for solely me.
Indulge your melancholia.
Embrace me tight.
I will wrap my arms around you to show you it’s alright.
Not only I but the sky cries with you
As she makes her mournful music when pattering on the ground.
Do not suffocate that noise,
or suppress your woeful cries;
For with it you will kill your senses
And they’re what make you alive.