Each line is a shadow of past stories.
Every word is etched into an open space.
How important it is that I leave a mark on this world;
Something to be remembered by,
But all I have to write with is
an eraser.

You turn; I begin to run.
That tear glistens in the rays of the sun.
Like a diamond or a blue horizon.
A perfect drop falling down a perfect cheek;
Falling forever, on and on,
I see it and begin to weep.


Tear a river, so peaceful but moving so fast.
Always passing and always there but doesn’t seem to last.
How it fills each rain, causing it to grow.
Consistently growing, but Oh so slow.
Faster, faster the roar of the river screams.
Provoking thought but swallowing dreams.
That’s what the tear drop implies;
A peaceful stirring of a heartfelt goodbye.
Longing to be loved at last,
Yet nothing given back to surpass.


Tear like the rain giving water to the flower.
Making it to grow into a mesmerizing power.
But when it’s plucked the hand is scorned,
All by the poisonous thorn.
A thorn so magnificent yet full of pain.
For this reason, I cannot explain;
Is it the beauty that causes this lack of thought?
Is the pain worth the heartsick, I think not.
So let the rain fall as a shower
And mask the tears from that haunting hour.


Tear as window, sheds light on what’s within.
See the emotions, where they all begin.
See in, but the blinds of the eyes
Hides what’s inside.
The draped curtains of thought
Illuminates what is sought.
The wanting to be missed,
And the fairytale wish.
But the lock is set in the end,
As it has always been.