Sadness does not turn your world black and white;
it leaves you standing naked on an iceberg
with tangles in your hair and the world
too bright for your eyes.
Worry sets in that someone will notice but everyone is too busy
watching for their own Titanic.

There is nothing quiet about it,
except maybe the holes it makes inside of you
and even those seem to whistle on windy days.
The world yells at you with muffled voices as if you’re standing
in a labyrinth of glass walls and somehow
you’ve forgotten a hammer.

It turns you into a series of nouns, without the adjectives
and without the verbs. You don’t remember
where you misplaced your descriptions, your actions
(under the sink with your emotions and Mr. Clean)
You become:
bed,
shower,
socks,
coffee,
keys,
obligations

You’ll see others stripped bare like you but it won’t matter-
they can’t save you. All you can do is lower yourself gently
into the swirling water and tell yourself to hold on tight.

Ocean, diver, wall, air.