It takes Corona waves,
For the world to stop crying.
If you listen closely,
maybe you will also embrace the silence.

I am sure I first cried when I came out of the womb, not emotional crying, that came later.
When I was seven, I’d cry myself to sleep wishing my body was beautiful.
When at the age of eleven I found out my sister had harmed herself, I cried, pleading with her to stop.
When I first harmed myself, I cried, pleading with my brain to take the hurt away.
Sometimes I cry until I fall asleep because what else is there to do?
I turned 15 the day I found out my grandfather had died, and I cried, but I could not shed a tear at the funeral. I think my eyes were too dry by then.
Sometimes I cry over the stupidest things. Like if I turned in an assignment late or if my mother loves me.
I even cried when my girlfriend said she’d always be there for me, and she held me while I did.
I have not yet mastered the art of crying, because my tears always feel like too little too late, or too much too soon.

She stared me down a vacant lot,
holding just a vile,
of one thousand miles,
i traveled to lay where i was shot.

waves of tender hugs,
and secret love notes,
a love worth next to nothing,
a love that’s hard to cope.

she asked me why i had stayed the extra hour,
my head thought the truth
as my mouth decided to shower,
that girl with future demons
and tears she’d never have cried.

but why she follows
everything but her heart,
it’s a mysterious thing about her,
i swear i’ll never master,
like the strokes of a brush
product of every recent thought.

there is a cleansing nature to crying
to washing your face with saltwater
when my tears flow down my cheeks
i feel a freedom in letting them go
in no longer fighting to hold them in

when a tear rolls from my eye
it first touches soft lashes
trying to hold it in, keep me clean
and then the lashes bend
make room for the water to flow

it hits my cheek softly
a release of pain, not the cause
the tear moves slowly,
traveling from cheek to mouth
and leaves behind a trail of hurt

i taste the salt and ignore the pain
the bursting feeling in my chest
my lips move as if of their own will
move the way they do as I apply glosses
letting there be no trace of sadness

after the warmth sinks into my soul
and the tightness leaves my chest
i look into the mirror
i rinse my face once more, with cooling water
dry my face and eyes again

the only thing left of the tears
is the feeling of relief on my heart
the slight tint of red in my eyes
and the knowledge that this
will not be the last time