Through the Fog

Tag: quiet sadness

  • I See Your Sadness

    I see your sadness—

    not the obvious kind,

    not the kind

    that asks to be noticed.

    The quiet kind.

    The one you tuck

    behind your words,

    the one that slips

    between sentences

    when you think

    no one’s paying attention.

    You carry it well.

    That’s the problem.

    You’ve learned

    how to soften your edges,

    how to smile

    just enough

    to keep people from asking.

    But it’s there.

    In the way you pause

    a second too long,

    in the way your eyes

    don’t quite stay

    where they should,

    in the way you exist

    like you’re holding something

    you don’t know

    how to set down.

    I don’t need you

    to explain it.

    I don’t need

    a version of it

    that’s easier to hear.

    I just need you

    to know this—

    you don’t have

    to hide it here.

    Not from me.

    Because I see it.

    And I’m not going anywhere

    just because

    you’re not okay.

  • A Shade of Blue

    There’s a shade of blue

    that doesn’t live in the sky.

    It settles quieter than that—

    in the space between breaths,

    in the silence after a name

    you don’t say anymore.

    It isn’t loud enough

    to call itself sadness.

    It doesn’t break things.

    It just… stays.

    Like dusk

    that never quite turns to night,

    like water

    that looks still

    but pulls at you underneath.

    It shows up in small ways—

    in songs you don’t skip

    but don’t quite listen to,

    in moments that feel almost full

    but not enough to hold onto.

    You learn to carry it.

    That’s the strange part.

    Fold it into your days,

    wear it like something soft

    that doesn’t ask to be noticed

    but never lets you forget

    it’s there.

    And sometimes—

    in a flicker you didn’t expect—

    that blue

    catches a little light,

    and for a second

    it looks like something else.

    Not happiness.

    Not pain.

    Just a color

    that means

    you felt something

    and it stayed.