I always wonder why it is That seeing someone else's tears Creates such awe in me. I want to ease your pain But I am also Transfixed by it.
The mask slips When people cry. The seams rip And all of a sudden parts of them That are never meant to be seen Writhe in the light, Raw and agonized and Beautiful As hell. I do mean that- hell. It is both Divine and perverse To witness someone else's pain. I always hold my breath As if I could shatter their soul Just with the knife's edge of my gaze.
When you cry Most people politely look away For their own comfort And tug their disguises closer, Check their pinnings Reminded of their fragility By the gauche display Of yours.
When you cry I Freeze like a photograph And I see you as a child I see you as a god I see you As a rainstorm reaching its fingers across All the ugly concrete and glass we build And getting inside Underneath To make the trees bloom. When you cry I see you like I see a painting Hung in a museum so quiet you want to hush your heartbeat Just to keep the stillness electric. When you cry You are so bright that when I glance at you And look away I am blind for a moment.
There is something about seeing that loss of control in another person That one second of utter truth The brutal, consuming honesty that comes with tears That reaches inside, for those who dare let it, And wounds exquisitely. There is a bare second When the part of them that recoils from the light Clasps shriveled hands with the answering piece of you And both hurt- To see and to be seen But that moment Reminds you that you are alive And Why.