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Tomorrow
Folder:
For Broken Hearts When the tears run out,
What then?
They're all I have.
The ripping breaths
Convulsing chest
Quivering lips
Clenching fists
... they're all just fuel for the pain.
Those things don't purge,
Not like tears
I can hold a tear
In my trembling palm,
It's tangible and real
I can feel the slickness of its suffering
Taste its salty agony
This is the bitter fruit of my pain
So when the tears run out
As they surely will
What then?
Shall I bleed?
