After reading somewhere that emotional tears fall slower than reactionary ones

Every time I cry over you I count how many seconds it takes a tear to fall down my cheek

I wonder if I still miss you

Or if I'm crying because it feels like the right thing to do

Her shy imagination is a blessing.
Her heart is rather plump with never ending hope.
She says she'll always see the best in me.
I wonder if that's supposed to be a joke.
My words should leave my poisoned mouth, and sting her swelling heart.
Instead they bang my lips with hammers, yearning for them to part.
Her name wraps softly 'round my agitated thoughts.
When she pulls them down my throat again, they turn into sharp and jagged rocks.
Her method is so simple to
keep my rage at bay.
She always says she'll never leave my mind. She'll be packing any day.