That's What Sadness Does

What's left after the excitement and noise and cheers are silence.

Deafening silence.

Falling slowly, creeping to the ground like a brown dry leave floating down at the end of its existence. Slowly, slowly, but with finality, deadly conviction, the force of nature, unbind, without doubt, that it will fall, it will touch the ground.
Oh hell it will.

That's what sadness does.

It will come. It will fall upon you. Blending perfectly into the air particles around you. Forcing themselves into your nose, your lungs, clawing onto your blood cells, running along the flow of your blood, occupying your vein, riding the rhythm of  your pulse, invading your whole being.

There is no way you wouldn't feel it.

You will.
Feel.
Sad.
Oh hell you will.

And for a moment everything stills.

That's what sadness does.

Three Years Ago

"Let this be the last tears shed for you.

Please, let this be. 

Let us go our own separate ways in peace, and compassion, from now on. 

Let's not carry any more of what's left of our bitterness.

Please, let's just not. 

If there's still somewhere in the darkest secluded forgotten corner of your mind, a small place left for me

If there's any way, any wicked way the universe allows you to hear what I'm saying now, if there's any way somewhere in some parallel world, that you can hear me now

Hear me out

Please, say what you need to say, if you must.

Or hold your silence forever. And let this be the last.

Please."