I could tell you what disappointment tastes like, and it's not what you think. Disappointment isn't bitter, and it isn't sour. It's not a frown on your face and a sigh at the end of a long day. It's not the sadness in your heart nor is it the soreness of your eyes.


Disappointment is a flower where you pour water onto it just to keep it alive. It's running from the ghosts chasing you and you not comprehending why they are. It's standing back in the corner with tape over your mouth, chains jangling over wrists, and nothing except a pebble sitting besides you.

It's this hand you touch that doesn't do anything to enhance your well-being but you continue to forever touch anyway. It's this bird you watch on your front porch everyday as it performs its same routine day in day out.

Disappointment is not what you think it is.

But I wish I could tell you what it really is.

All I know is there less hope each day after day.