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The Intricacy of Teardrops
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Missing Him There is a faucet leaking in my home
And I’m left alone to fix it
Even though I’m drowning.
I collect my tears in buckets
On which I may hang
Over my shoulders
How they weigh me down
But it wouldn’t be the same
Without them.
I play games with tears
To keep busy.
I gamble
How each tear will
Ultimately fall
Off my face.
Will this one
Simply meander
Down my cheek?
Will the next
Drape across
The ridge of my nose
In the end,
They all land in the same place:
Soaking my pillow.
