they're warmer,
slower somehow,
these
tears of grief

they warm my eyes
like i'm
filling a bath
and sinking down
in too low
to breathe
but not quite
so low to drown

they're warmer
sure
but softer?
not quite.

they ***** down
slowly at first
and then
they chase each
other about
halfway down
because
it seems they're
in a hurry
to leave behind
the ache they
bring
the sting
they
sting

they pool out
they run down
and they leave
me behind
dried out
and empty
with no chance
to escape
into the air
and change
into something
new
the same way
that they
do

As we go down to the creek
Our souls cold and bleak
The rocks don't move not even blink
The moss is turning into frost
Because my cold bare feet just touched the bottom