AT THE LIBRARY

There is a sadness in my chest.
It doesn’t have a cause.
It doesn’t have a reason.
It just is.
But here,
the sadness is hushed.
Here the ache is dulled.
I inhale the smell of paper
and what I’m pretty sure are moth balls.
I sit in the quiet,
and just breathe.

 

At the Library, Teala Mangano © 2016

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