Sometimes
It hits you—

You don't know what it is, but
You know
That it tastes like
Sadness,
With a touch of Desolation.
Or perhaps Loneliness,
Coloured
Like saudade, with a shade
Of limerence.
And you don't know why it's there,
Except
That it is.

It's an all-encompassing kind of sadness;
The kind for which
There is no
Cure.