When Sadness Comes

it is as familiar as a sister. She fills the bathtub, unravels my clothing into a heap on the floor. She sits on the toilet, painting her toenails, singing my favorite songs, while I soak. She has the most beautiful voice. The phone rings and rings and I let it just lay there screaming for help. Or it doesn’t and I watch it sit silent as the dead on my dresser. She doesn’t want to go out tonight. I beg her, tell her she can wear anything in my closet. She tells me no baby girl, no, not tonight, maybe tomorrow. There is a refrigerator full of food. I want none of it.

– Sierra DeMulder

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