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.

When you hurt me and I'm okay about it, it doesn't mean that you've taught me to be stronger, or improved my outlook, or...done anything positive, actually. If you hurt me and I don't fall apart, it only means that you were the last connection I had to my feelings, and that by cutting it off you have cut the last of my ties and sent me drifting away from everybody in my life. When I actually love you and you actually hurt me, any "okay" you see, and tell yourself you've made me strong and wise enough to achieve, is actually just a slow paralysis of the heart, a spreading numbness that, honestly, scares me more than any pain.
Heads up. The silent treatment is actually never helpful.

I forgave you years ago.
And yet you accuse me still,
Mistaking the fallout
For blame.
Only your talents
Could turn me into the villain.
You don't really want me to forgive
You want me to forget.

From you I have learned that humans
Are not a forgiving lot.
They know very little about the concept.
Show forgiveness to them
And they thank you with mistrust,
Greedily demanding it be proven.
They think they deserve much more than they get
And fear that they deserve
Much less.
They hoard it madly, like gold,
Biting it to test its true worth.

And yet if the tables are turned
And you seek it yourself
You must pull tiny pieces of it from them
Like teeth.

i'd rather you tell me
those sickly sweet three words
as an april fools joke
than never hear them at all
and i think
that makes me pathetic and weak
but god,
i've never loved anyone
as much as i love you