My eyes they ache
from the swole set upon them
through night.

Sleep was sleepless
awake through an unconscious
labyrinth of dark adventure.

The tears were bestowed
upon me.
For they were a symbol of my biggest fear.
Fear of a blasé attitude
of adventure
beyond the Alamo.

The salted water that flowed that night
was I
trying to walk away from the truth.
To pretend I did not hear.
But the river upon my cheek knew, it heard.


The tears they were hours of fear.
Screaming.
They knew.
Those tears held the future.
They held the knowing
that we too
will grow apart.