Her tears

So vast

So broad

Their depth rivaling oceans unexplored

That the stripes of sweeping blue

Dominate her face and neck

Painted on like a tiger

The stain on her lips

Ruined from it, all running now

Patched like a quilt and raggedly lined

Eyes so agonized she won’t bear to meet yours

Her whole body is in shadow

And she’s torn her facade of external loveliness

To the ground because she feels six feet under

She can’t be reached now

But she’s so consumed by pain she needs nothing more than a hand to help, to comfort

But don’t we all need kindness

Just as much as

Her tears?

Image: “Cut It Out”

Thanks for reading this oddly formatted bit on crying.


I write poetry, prose, and personal pieces. All images are mine unless indicated otherwise. Feel free to leave feedback on my work anytime; I hope you enjoy.

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