i was messy crying but you
took me into your arms and
told me that you loved me
and that i would be okay.
i am far too scared to let you see
my tears, most of the time,
but sometimes they break free
and i color blue outside my lines.
i thought, somehow, you would leave
me to my tears, alone, but you
did not, and picked me up, brushed off
the dirt, and let the dam break.
it is not always like this, but today
you keep me safe.
the inside of my mind was as harsh
as any bleach, corrosive, acid,
so harsh it needed a warning sign,
so harsh that i could hardly survive,
but now it is quiet and warm and suddenly
i can breathe again when i thought that
the oxygen had run out.

Cry
Cry
Cry
See if I care.
I’m so numb now
All I can do is stare.
Stare at your face,
Cold and upset.
Why so upset?
Why
Why
Why

Salt filled orbs, refusing to fall.
Locked behind a dam, they silently call.
For release, for freedom, for sweet escape.
But they are held captive, in an unbreakable shape.

A hurting heart, a broken Soul
Feelings too deep, to ever be told.
Eyes that deceive, a smile that hides.
The pain that is within, forever resides.

The tears that don't fall, leave an endless ache.
A burning sensation, that no one can shake.
They swim in our eyes, but refuse to spill.
As we hold them back, against our will.

And I cried oceans
And I stood in your emotions
I think halfway through
I lost the notion;

Of what love is
As I felt the breeze
Of cold air and tulips
I paced through your mist.

And you're so empty
Don't love me gently
Leave me behind
Assume I'm blind.

Perfect doesn't exist,
I clenched my fist.
Prayed for God's call,
I know if I fall,
I gave it my all.

Children should not be left to cry alone.

They need someone beside them, even if it won't solve the problem. [Many problems cannot be solved.]

They need someone to stroke their hair and hold their hand,
to dry their tears and wipe their snotty noses.
They need someone to tell them it is going to be ok, even when it isn't going to be ok. [Especially when it isn't going to be ok.]

There is a little girl crying alone.

She does not muffle the sound of her crying. She wants her parents to hear.
She thinks that if they hear her crying, they will finally understand, and they will make everything alright.
Or maybe they will stroke her hair and hold her hand. [That would be alright.]

They don't come.

Maybe they can't hear her. Maybe they're busy. Maybe they didn't notice. [Maybe they don't care.]

They aren't coming.

The little girl's tears trickle off her cheeks,
making her pillow damp,
making her skin sticky with the salt. [She falls asleep.]

They don't come.

[There is a young woman crying in her childhood bedroom. Briefly, she worries about the embarrassment of her parents finding her here, crying like a little girl. They don't come. She laughs.]

Teardrop echoes; the tone of your skin drains away,
painting another picture of the night. Whistle-blowers of the night-
torchbearers of the day; kids fighting each other for tree turfs;
skipping stones at early morning ducks. But their mother
inside doesn’t have much time to duck his punch

Well domesticated dogs, too afraid to bark at the night’s
domestic violence. Dominated skin under the dominator’s tight
hands; the love of a shape-shifter— changing its skin to appear
loving for ten pairs of eyes; striking down with a false picture
of love- to the sight of six eyes. Like claws that sink into your
skin; he’s drunk again!

A day away from shelter; for a heaven that does exist from
one’s bruised knees. For all the hurt draped over troubled
shoulders, unfurled eyes crying silent tears bouncing off
the walls

                     A child in the next room hears the teardrop echoes