Sad Girl

“Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.”
— Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

Sad girl
standing in the playground with large searching eyes
looking for a kind word
to collect and keep in a box under the bed
a part of the circle seems chipped off 
and the connection is intermittent
so she looks all the time
sad girl 
sharing her lunch with the birds because nobody else is near 
no matter how hard she concentrates she can’t make them understand
and she cannot make them stay and sing with her
they are afraid of her giantness
birds don’t know sad
sad woman
typing in an office and looking at the same wall
the same clock
the same doorways
the bathroom is an escape and alone for a friendly moment
she dreams herself happy
hands properly washed and blown dry
steps back into the well ordered aloneness
sad woman understands sad
knows how to wear it
how to travel it
how much sugar you need to add
and only occasionally now
still wishes the birds would sing with her



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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7 Responses to Sad Girl

  1. God, that is sad—you put your finger right where it hurts. I’m reblogging this one though it will probably have me crying all day.

  2. Reblogged this on Jane Dougherty Writes and commented:
    To wake up on a Monday morning to this poem is like a cold shower. Jaye Tomas shows up a lifetime of quiet sadness in a handful of lines. Beautiful.

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