Tears that stain my face, Trickle their way
down my cheek and neck,
Resting on my palpatating delapedated organ
Mending the cracks and sealing the wounds.
They stare, wonder, speculate,
Hot gazes, a flash in the pan,
A gaze to distract, to dispell
to intoxicate, to forget.
A shallow drop in a dry well of tears
Emotions like a cloud over the well,
Grey and ominous with the promise of rain
Rain rain go away,
Come again some other day,
Some other day when you won't see,
This shadow of my former me.
Tears trickle past my heart,
leaving a trail from begining to end
from my eye to my stomach.
Glistening paint that covers the holes
But does not fill them.
My stomach touched by the tears has an adverse reaction,
Does flips and kicks that would make an acrobat jealous to the core
my chest heaving with sobs of wretched,
sobering gasps of shocked air
I can't do this. I need to stop the self-destruction.
I need to regroup, regain control, and stop.
The clouds shake and thunder rumbles,
threatening to release their heavy load.
Rumble, wave after wave,
a crack of lightning,
a release, a temporary reprieve
then a following panic, confusion
as I realize I'm IN the well.
the well is not a well of tears,
but an endless wall of brick crushing me
as a constricting snake,
slowly feeding off of my life until I am no more.
As I awaken, I trace my index finger lightly across the stains,
those stains that stain my pillow, and drip black,
burning ink on my heart.
Oh what those tears could heal and tear that
I might be torn in half and sewn up again
one final time
to let it be finished.