How to Cry

How to Cry
100 Themes 35 – Forgotten
10-06-17

Liquid used to leak lovingly from my eyes
To caress my cheeks and chin;
Tears tore my tiny soul into shreds and shards,
That blistered my thick skin
And bled, bled, bled
Until I was nothing more than a husk in a cracked shell.

I heard it said that God counts every tear
And considers them precious,
That he collects them in Heaven in a bowl made for you alone;
My bowl must have been an ocean in disguise,
Lapping at the edges
As each new drop caused a ripple that ran rampant around my heart.

I've forgotten how to cry,
But I can never forget where I've come from.

My eyes are desert-dry and caked with dust now.
Heaven's bowl has shrunk to a thimble
And it leaks just the same.
Numbness has wrapped my mind and heart in a tidy parcel
Like a fish from the shop;
Incognito and unrecognisable in its wrappings
My inner-being belies all attempts at help.

Sometimes emotion hits me like a bullet,
The impact drawing a gasp from cracked lips and parched lungs,
But to cry an actual tear is something that doesn't happen anymore.

I've forgotten how to cry,
But I can never forget where I've come from.