We want feelings to have names
And it’s the fuckers that don’t that scare us
How to say
Bittersweet
Only tastes like accepting the inevitable
Such lightness with all that darkness
It’s almost funny
And there’s that ghost of anger just hanging out
Feeling righteous and ashamed
It’s a party, and everyone is invited
Where you watch your steps kick up muck from the riverbed
Swirl about your ankles and folks say
Okay now name that one for the way it looks right there
In this light, balled up at the end of that couch
What do you call it?