“Tears crawl, silent rivers on my skin,
Tracing the curve of my trembling chin.
They fall–soft as whispers, they return
To a wounded heart from which they burn;
Raindrops bleed into a well so deep
It knows the taste of longing in its sleep.
The pain unfurls into a powerful swell,
A feeling it has known far too well.
Even the depth of hollow silence
Cannot contain the heart’s defiance–
Inevitably, my eyes must follow,
Weeping like ghosts, soft and hollow.
Silver tears float through the sky,
Showering the earth and the passers by.”