My tears fill the well that was designed for them.
Soon traveling down my cheeks and chin.
As creeks or streams might allow a mountain's rainy day runoff,
To gently pass over stone.
Triggered by a scent, a sound, a thought,
A dagger like sting from a memory of,
What could have been.
Perhaps the fearful gaze upon a future
That may lay ahead.

And so they fall.
Dying my eyes red.
In silence, I try to gather my thoughts,
Odd for someone whose thoughts
Placed him in this predicament
And as I stack them.
Neatly. I might add.
The breeze of your memory knocks them to the floor.
Again.
Because this has happened before.

You have done this to me once again.
This time your presence wasn't even necessary.
To cause this cascade of solemnity.
But I realize that sadness,
Isn't what I endure.
Rather reflection,
Similar to the one emerging on the countertop,
Under my chin
That grows with every drip and drop,
Grants that sadness has left me,
But each memory's searing pain
Doses me with lonely regret of squandered opportunity.
Which stabs at my heart.

The dripping soon subsides,
And with face stained scarlet.
I wipe away the remnants
Of my rainfall.
From face and counter.
And prepare the shielded smile.
That has protected me,
Since you left.
I prepare my next joke
Buttoning it from intro to punchline
Hoping that it garners a laugh.
So that, even if vicariously,
I can smile.

The water
From the faucet
Cleanses the dirt
From my pores
But it cannot sink in
Past my skin
To purify
My soul.

Words, thoughts, like chords;
Sewn, printed, onto paper.
Works, strewn, unwanted;
Taken to ground like ashes.
Owners forgotten, children;
Stained, broken, like old dolls.
Worn, exhausted, crippled;
All to become their elders.

You enjoyed it,
Do not lie,
You had fun playing with my heart.
You threw me around,
And then smiled and laughed
As I fell apart.

Ruined minds
And stained lives,
All caused by you.
I hope that one day,
Your destruction will cease
So we can all pull through.

How does it feel
To lie to the ones
Who love you for "you"?
I hope you feel guilty,
As it is not only we,
But they who suffer too.

Stained.
Like the blood on my hands have dried to a crust.
My heart had thawed but now has freezer burn.
The strands of blonde that were bleached last year.
The words that I won't forget.
Stained.
Like the white dress that has now turned yellow.
The dried candle wax that won't come off the carpet.
Don't love me, or I will become hard.
Don't leave me
Or I will become,
Stained.

I'm just a tool
People use me like a spoon
They don't see I'll wear out soon
They do see I'm stained & broken
They won't hear me when I've spoken
& they still don't do **** to fix me

Upon high the wood never
Sways, always ridged. Its
Fruits ever waiting for the
Time to fall.

But the wood never sways
Its branchless heights, Its
Tainted bark, its moments
When fruits do fall.

Not the time yet, but fall
They will, selected for they
Are special in nature.
When they descend blood
Spills saturating floors.

The wood never sways, only
When the fruit does fall, where
Life is surrendered. Where that
Moment is quiet as one became
Two and the fruit had fallen
From up high to the *floor.

my smile is like a waterfall
I'm standing under its flow
my heart it is so very sad
my tears they drop so slow

my eyes are soggy and very wet
my cheeks are two red fire *****
stained with so such pain
for my true love I've not found yet